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AUNT    JAN  E'S 
NIECES 


By 
EDITH  VAN  DYNE 


CHICAGO 

THE  REILLY  &  BRITTON  CO. 
PUBLISHERS 


COPTRIOHT,   1906, 
BY 

THE  REILLY  &  BRITTON  CO0 


A  LIST  OF  CHAPTERS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I     BETH  RECEIVES  AN  INVITATION 9 

II     MOTHER  AND  DAUGHTER 18 

III  PATSY 28 

IV  LOUISE  MAKES  A  DISCOVERY 36 

V     AUNT  JANE 42 

VI     THE  BOY    53 

VII    THK  FIRST  WARNING 63 

VIII    THB  DIPLOMAT 73 

IX     COUSINS 81 

X     THE  MAN  WITH  THE  BUNDLE 95 

XI     THE  MAD  GARDENER 108 

XII     UNCLE  JOHN  GETS  ACQUAINTED 126 

XIII  THE  OTHER  NIECE , 140 

XIV  KENNETH  is  FRIGHTENED 154 

XV    PATSY  MEETS  WITH  AN  ACCIDENT 166 

XVI     GOOD  RESULTS 173 

XVII     AUNT  JANE'S  HEIRESS 190 

XVIII     PATRICIA  SPEAKS  FRANKLY 203 

XIX     DUPLICITY 212 

XX     IN  THK  GARDEN 223 

XXI     READING  THE  WILL 228 

XXII    JAMES  TELLS  A  STRANGE  STORY 238 

XXIII  PATSY  ADOPTS  AN  UNCLE 248 

XXIV  HOME  AGAIN 257 

XXV    UNCLE  JOHN  ACTS  QUBKRLY 269 

XXVI     A  BUNCH  OF  KEYS 280 

XXVII     LOUISE  MAKES  A  DISCOVERY 296 

XXVIII     PATSY  LOSES  HER  JOB 304 

XXIX     THE  MAJOR  DEMANDS  AN  EXPLANATION 315 


1 


CHAPTER  I. 


BETH   RECEIVES  AN   INVITATION. 

Professor  De  Graf  was  sorting  the  mail  at 
the  breakfast  table. 

"Here's  a  letter  for  you,  Beth,"  said  he,  and 
tossed  it  across  the  cloth  to  where  his  daughter 
sat. 

The  girl  raised  her  eyebrows,  expressing  sur- 
prise. It  was  something  unusual  for  her  to  re- 
ceive a  letter.  She  picked  up  the  square  envelope 
"between  a  finger  and  thumb  and  carefully  read 
the  inscription,  "Miss  Elizabeth  De  Graf,  Clov- 
erton.  Ohio."  Turning  the  envelope  she  found 
on  the  reverse  flap  a  curious  armorial  emblem, 
with  the  word  "Elmhurst." 

Then  she  glanced  at  her  father,  her  eyes  big1 
and  somewhat  startled  in  expression.  The  Pro- 
fessor was  deeply  engrossed  in  a  letter  from  Ben- 


AUNT  JANE'S   NIECES. 

jamin  Lowenstein  which  declared  that  a  certain 
note  must  be  paid  at  maturity.  His  weak,  watery 
blue  eyes  stared  rather  blankly  from  behind  the 
gold-rimmed  spectacles.  His  flat  nostrils  extended 
and  compressed  like  those  of  a  frightened  horse; 
and  the  indecisive  mouth  was  tremulous.  At 
'  the  best  the  Professor  was  not  an  imposing  per- 
sonage. He  wore  a  dressing-gown  of  soiled 
quilted  silk  and  linen  not  too  immaculate ;  but  his 
little  sandy  moustache  and  the  goatee  that  dco- 
rated  his  receding  chin  were  both  carefully  waxed 
into  sharp  points — an  indication  that  he  possessed 
at  least  one  vanity.  Three  days  in  the  week  he 
taught  vocal  and  instrumental  music  to  the  am- 
bitious young  ladies  of  Cloverton.  The  other 
three  days  he  rode  to  Pelham's  Grove,  ten  miles 
away,  and  taught  music  to  all  who  wished  to  ac- 
quire that  desirable  accomplishment.  But  the 
towns  were  small  and  the  fees  not  large,  so  that 
Professor  De  Graf  had  much  difficulty  in  securing 
an  income  sufficient  for  the  needs  of  his  family. 
The  stout,  sour-visaged  lady  who  was  halt- 
hidden  by  her  newspaper  at  the  other  end  of  the 
table  was  also  a  bread-winner,  for  she  taught 

10 


AUNT  JANE'S   NIECES. 

embroidery  to  the  women  of  her  acquaintance 
and  made  various  articles  of  fancy-work  that 
were  sold  .at  Biggar's  Emporium,  the  largest 
store  In  Cloverton.  So,  between  them,  the  Pro- 
fessor and  Mrs.  De  Graf  managed  to  defray  or- 
dinary expenses  and  keep  Elizabeth  at  school; 
but  there  were  one  or  two  dreadful  "notes"  that 
were  constantly  hanging  over  their  heads  like  the 
sword  of  Damocles,  threatening  to  ruin  them  at 
any  moment  their  creditors  proved  obdurate. 

Finding  her  father  and  mother  both  occupied, 
the  girl  ventured  to  open  her  letter.  It  was  writ- 
ten in  a  sharp,  angular,  feminine  hand  and  read 
as  follows : 

"My  Dear  Niece :  It  will  please  me  to  have 
you  spend  the  months  of  July  and  August  as  my 
guest  at  Elmhurst.  I  am  in  miserable  health,  and 
wish  to  become  better  acquainted  with  you  before 
I  die.  A  check  for  necessary  expenses  is  enclosed 
and  I  shall  expect  you  to  arrive  promptly  on  the 
first  of  July. 

Your  Aunt, 

JANE  MERRICK." 
II 


AUNT  JANE'S   NIECES. 

A  low  exclamation  from  Elizabeth  caused  her 
father  to  look  in  her  direction.  He  saw  the  bank 
check  lying  beside  her  plate  and  the  sight  lent  an 
eager  thrill  to  his  voice. 

"What  is  it,  Beth?" 

"A  letter  from  Aunt  Jane." 

Mrs.  De  Graf  gave  a  jump  and  crushed  the 
newspaper  into  her  lap. 

"What!"  she  screamed. 

"Aunt  Jane  has  invited  me  to  spend  two 
months  at  Elmhurst,"  said  Elizabeth,  and  passed 
^he  letter  to  her  mother,  who  grabbed  it  excit- 
edly. 

"How  big  is  the  check,  Beth?"  enquired  the 
Professor,  in  a  low  tone. 

"A  hundred  dollars.  She  says  it's  for  my  ex- 
penses. 

"Huh!  Of  course  you  won't  go  near  that 
dreadful  old  cat,  so  we  can  use  the  money  to  bet- 
ter advantage." 

"Adolph!" 

The  harsh,  cutting  voice  was  that  of  his  wife, 
and  the  Professor  shrank  back  in  his  chair. 

"Your  sister  Jane  is  a  mean,  selfish,  despicable 

12 


AUNT  JANE'S   NIECES. 

old  female,"  he  muttered.  "You've  said  so  a 
thousand  times  yourself,  Julia." 

"My  sister  Jane  is  a  very  wealthy  woman, 
ar  1  she's  a  Merrick,"  returned  the  lady,  severely. 
"How  dare  you — a  common  De  Graf — asperse 
her  character?" 

"The  De  Grafs  are  a  very  good  family,"  he 
retorted. 

"Show  me  one  who  is  wealthy !  Show  me 
one  who  is  famous!" 

"I  can't,"  said  the  Professor.  "But  they're 
decent,  and  they're  generous,  which  is  more  than 
can  be  said  for  your  tribe." 

"Elizabeth  must  go  to  Elmhurst,"  said  Mrs. 
De  Graf,  ignoring  her  husband's  taunt. 

"She  shan't.  Your  sister  refused  to  loan  me 
fifty  dollars  last  year,  when  I  was  in  great 
trouble.  She  hasn't  given  you  a  single  cent  since 
I  married  you.  No  daughter  of  mine  shall  go 
to  Elmhurst  to  be  bullied  and  insulted  by  Jane 
Merrick." 

"Adolph,  try  to  conceal  the  fact  that  you're  a 
fool,"  said  his  wife.  "Jane  is  in  a  desperate  state 
of  health,  and  can't  live  very  long  at  the  best.  I 

13 


AUNT  JANE'S   NIECES. 

believe  she's  decided  to  leave  her  money  to  Eliza- 
beth, or  she  never  would  have  invited  the  child 
to  visit  her.  Do  you  want  to  fly  in  the  face  of 
Providence,  you  doddering  old  imbecile?" 

"No,"  said  the  Professor,  accepting  the 
doubtful  appellation  without  a  blush.  "How 
much  do  you  suppose  Jane  is  worth?" 

"A  half  million,  at  the  very  least.  When  she 
was  a  girl  she  inherited  from  Thomas  Bradley, 
the  man  she  was  engaged  to  marry,  and  who  was 
suddenly  killed  in  a  railway  accident,  more  than 
a  quarter  of  a  million  dollars,  besides  that  beau- 
tiful estate  of  Elmhurst.  I  don't  believe  Jane  has 
even  spent  a  quarter  of  her  income,  and  the  for- 
tune must  have  increased  enormously.  Eliza- 
beth will  be  one  of  the  wealthiest  heiresses  in  the 
country !" 

"If   she   gets   the   money,   which   I   doubt," 
returned  the  Professor,  gloomily. 

"Why  should  you  doubt  it,  after  this  letter?" 
"You  had  another  sister  and  a  brother,  and 
they  both  had  children,"  said  he. 

"They  each  left  a  girl,  I  admit.    But  Jane  has 
never  favored  them  any  more  than  she  has  me. 

14 


AUNT  JANE'S   NIECES. 

And  this  invitation,  coming  when  Jane  is  practi- 
cally on  her  death  bed,  is  a  warrant  that  Beth 
will  get  the  money." 

"I  hope  she  will,"  sighed  the  music  teacher. 
"We  all  need  it  bad  enough,  I'm  sure." 

During  this  conversation  Elizabeth,  who 
might  be  supposed  the  one  most  interested  in  her 
Aunt's  invitation,  sat  silently  at  her  place,  eating 
her  breakfast  with  her  accustomed  calmness  of 
demeanor  and  scarcely  glancing  at  her  parents. 

She  had  pleasant  and  quite  regular  features, 
for  a  girl  of  fifteen,  with  dark  hair  and  eyes — the 
"Merrick  eyes,"  her  mother  proudly  declared — 
and  a  complexion  denoting  perfect  health  and 
colored  with  the  rosy  tints  of  youth.  Her  figure 
was  a  bit  slim  and  unformed,  and  her  shoulders 
stooped  a  little  more  than  was  desirable;  but  in 
Cloverton  Elizabeth  had  the  reputation  of  being 
"a  pretty  girl,"  and  a  sullen  and  unresponsive 
one  as  well. 

Presently  she  rose  from  her  seat,  glanced  at 
the  clock,  and  then  went  into  the  hall  to  get  her 
hat  and  school-books.  The  prospect  of  being  an 

15 


AUNT  JANE'S   NIECES. 

heiress  some  day  had  no  present  bearing  on  tlu 
fact  that  it  was  time  to  start  for  school. 

Her  father  came  to  the  door  with  the  check  in 
his  hand. 

"Just  sign  your  name  on  the  back  of  this, 
Beth,"  said  he,  "and  I'll  get  it  cashed  for  you." 

The  girl  shook  her  head. 

"No,  father,"  she  answered.  "If  I  decide  to 
go  to  Aunt  Jane's  I  must  buy  some  clothes ;  and  if 
you  get  the  money  I'll  never  see  a  cent  of  it." 

"When  will  you  decide?"  he  asked. 

"There's  no  hurry.  I'll  take  time  to  think 
it  over,"  she  replied.  ."I  hate  Aunt  Jane,  of 
course;  so  if  I  go  to  her  I  must  be  a  hypocrite, 
and  pretend  to  like  her,  or  she  never  will  leave 
me  her  property. 

"Well,  Beth?" 

"Perhaps  it  will  be  worth  while;  but  if  I  go 
into  that  woman's  house  I'll  be  acting  a  living 
lie." 

"But  think  of  the  money!"  said  her  mother. 

"I  do  think  of  it.  That's  why  I  didn't  tell  you 
at  once  to  send  the  check  back  to  Aunt  Jane.  I'm 
going  to  think  of  everything  before  I  decide.  But 

16 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

if  I  go — if  I  allow  this  money  to  make  me  a 
hypocrite — I  won't  stop  at  trifles,  I  assure  you. 
It's  in  my  nature  to  be  dreadfully  wicked  and 
cruel  and  selfish,  and  perhaps  the  money  isn't 
worth  the  risk  I  run  of  becoming  depraved." 

"Elizabeth!" 

"Good-bye;  I'm  late  now,"  she  continued,  in 
the  same  quiet  tone,  and  walked  slowly  down  the 
walk. 

The  Professor  twisted  his  moustache  and 
looked  into  his  wife's  eyes  with  a  half  frightened 
glance. 

"Beth's  a  mighty  queer  girl,"  he  muttered. 

"She's  very  like  her  Aunt  Jane,"  returned 
Mrs.  De  Graf,  thoughtfully  gazing  after  her 
daughter.  "But  she's  defiant  and  wilful  enough 
for  all  the  Merricks  put  together.  I  do  hope  she'll 
decide  to  go  to  Elmhurst." 


CHAPTER  II. 


MOTHER  AND  DAUGHTER. 

In  the  cosy  chamber  of  an  apartment  located 
in  a  fashionable  quarter  of  New  York  Louise 
Merrick  reclined  upon  a  couch,  dressed  in  a  dainty 
morning  gown  and  propped  and  supported  by  a 
dozen  embroidered  cushions. 

Upon  a  taboret  beside  her  stood  a  box  of 
bonbons,  the  contents  of  which  she  occasionally 
nibbled  as  she  turned  the  pages  of  her  novel. 

The  girl  had  a  pleasant  and  attractive  face, 
although  its  listless  expression  was  singular  in  one 
so  young.  It  led  you  to  suspect  that  the  short 
seventeen  years  of  her  life  had  robbed  her  of  all 
the  anticipation  and  eagerness  that  is  accustomed 
to  pulse  in  strong  young  blood,  and  filled  her 
with  experiences  that  compelled  her  to  accept  ex- 

18 


AUNT  JANE'S   NIECES. 

istence  in  a  half  bored  and  wholly  matter-of-fact 

way. 

The  room  was  tastefully  though  somewhat 
elaborately  furnished;  yet  everything  in  it  seemed 
as  fresh  and  new  as  if  it  had  just  come  from  the 
shop— which  was  not  far  from  the  truth.  The 
apartment  itself  was  new,  with  highly  polished 
floors  and  woodwork,  and  decorations  undimmed 
by  time.  Even  the  girl's  robe,  which  she  wore  so 
gracefully,  was  new,  and  the  books  upon  the  cen- 
ter-table were  of  the  latest  editions. 

The  portiere  was  thrust  aside  and  an  elderly 
lady  entered  the  room,  seating  herself  quietly  at 
the  window,  and,  after  a  single  glance  at  the  form 
upon  the  couch,  beginning  to  embroider  patiently 
upon  some  work  she  took  from  a  silken  bag.  She 
moved  so  noiselessly  that  the  girl  did  not  hear  her 
and  for  several  minutes  absolute  silence  per- 
vaded the  room. 

Then,  however,  Louise  in  turning  a  leaf 
glanced  up  and  saw  the  head  bent  over  the  em- 
broidery. She  laid  down  her  book  and  drew  an 
open  letter  from  betwen  the  cushions  beside  her, 
which  she  languidly  tossed  into  the  other's  lap. 

19 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

"Who  is  this  woman,  mamma?"  she  asked. 

Mrs.  Merrick  glanced  at  the  letter  and 
then  read  it  carefully  through,  before  replying. 

"Jane  Merrick  is  your  father's  sister,"  she 
said,  at  last,  as  she  thoughtfully  folded  the  letter 
and  placed  it  upon  .the  table. 

"Why  have  I  never  heard  of  her  before?" 
enquired  the  girl,  with  a  slight  accession  of  in- 
terest in  her  tones. 

"'Hiat  I  cannot  well  explain.    I  had  supposed 

you  knew  of  your  poor  father's  sister  Jane,  al- 
though you  were  so  young  when  he  died  that  it 
is  possible  he  never  mentioned  her  name  in  your 
presence. 

"They  were  not  on  friendly  terms,  you  know. 
Jane  was  rich,  having  inherited  a  fortune  and 
a  handsome  country  place  from  a  young  man 
whom  she  was  engaged  to  marry,  but  who  died 
on  the  eve  of  his  wedding  day." 

"How  romantic!"  exclaimed  Louise. 

"It  does  seem  romantic,  related  in  this  way," 
replied  her  mother.  "But  with  the  inheritance 
all  romance  disappeared  from  your  aunt's  life. 
She  became  a  crabbed,  disagreeable  woman,  old 

20 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

before  her  time  and  friendless  because  she  sus- 
pected everyone  of  trying  to  rob  her  of  her  money. 
Your  poor  father  applied  to  her  in  vain  for  assist- 
ance, and  I  believe  her  refusal  positively  shortened 
his  life.  When  he  died,  after  struggling  bravely 
to  succeed  in  his  business,  he  left  nothing  but  his 
life-insurance." 

"Thank  heaven  he  left  that!"  sighed  Louise. 

"Yes;  we  would  have  been  beggared,  indeed, 
without  it,"  agreed  Mrs.  Merrick.  "Yet  I  often 
wonder,  Louise,  how  we  managed  to  live  upon  the 
interest  of  that  money  for  so  many  years." 

"We  didn't  live — we  existed,"  corrected  the 
girl,  yawning.  "We  scrimped  and  pinched,  and 
denied  ourselves  everything  but  bare  necessities. 
And  had  it  not  been  for  your  brilliant  idea, 
mater  dear,  we  would  still  be  struggling  in  the 
depths  of  poverty." 

Mrs.  Merrick  frowned,  and  leaned  back  in  her 
chair. 

"I  sometimes  doubt  if  the  idea  was  so  bril- 
liant, after  all,"  she  returned,  with  a  certain 
grimness  of  expression.  "We're  plunging, 
Louise ;  and  it  may  be  into  a  bottomless  pit." 

21 


AUNT  JANE'S   NIECES. 

"Don't  worry,  dear,"  said  the  girl,  biting  into 
a  bonbon.  "We  are  only  on  the  verge  of  our 
great  adventure,  and  there's  no  reason  to  be  dis- 
couraged yet,  I  assure  you.  Brilliant !  Of  course 
the  idea  was  brilliant,  mamma.  The  income  of 
that  insurance  money  was  insignificant,  but  the 
capital  is  a  very  respectable  sum.  I  am  just 
seventeen  years  of  age — although  I  feel  that  I 
ought  to  be  thirty,  at  the  least — and  in  three 
years  I  shall  be  twenty,  and  a  married  woman. 
You  decided  to  divide  our  capital  into  three 
equal  parts,  and  spend  a  third  of  it  each  year,  this 
plan  enabling  us  to  live  in  good  style  and  to  ac- 
quire a  certain  social  standing  that  will  allow  me 
to  select  a  wealthy  husband.  It's  a  very  brilliant 
idea,  my  dear!  Three  years  is  a  long  time.  I'll 
find  my  Croesus  long  before  that,  never  fear." 

"You  ought  to,"  returned  the  mother, 
thoughtfully.  "But  if  you  fail,  we  shall  be  en- 
tirely ruined." 

"A  strong  incentive  to  succeed."  said  Louise, 
smiling.  "An  ordinary  girl  might  not  win  out; 
but  I've  had  my  taste  of  poverty,  and  I  don't  like 
it.  No  one  will  suspect  us  of  being  adventurers, 

22 


AUNT  JANE'S   NIECES. 

for  as  long  as  we  live  in  this  luxurious  fashion  we 
shall  pay  our  bills  promptly  and  be  proper  and 
respectable  in  every  way.  The  only  chance  we 
run  lies  in  the  danger  that  eligible  young  men 
may  prove  shy,  and  refuse  to  take  our  bait;  but 
are  we  not  diplomats,  mother  dear?  We  won't 
despise  a  millionaire,  but  will  be  content  with  a 
man  who  can  support  us  in  good  style,  or  even  in 
comfort,  and  in  return  for  his  money  I'll  be  a  very 
good  wife  to  him.  That  seems  sensible  and  wise, 
I'm  sure,  and  not  at  all  difficult  of  accomplish- 
ment." 

Mrs.  Merrick  stared  silently  out  of  the  win- 
dow, and  for  a  few  moments  seemed  lost  in 
thought. 

"I  think,  Louise,"  she  said  at  last,  "you  will 
do  well  to  cultivate  your  rich  aunt,  and  so  have 
two  strings  to  your  bow." 

"You  mean  that  I  should  accept  her  queer  in- 
vitation to  visit  her?" 

"Yes." 

"She  has  sent  me  a  check  for  a  hundred  dol- 
lars. Isn't  it  funnv?" 

"Jane  was  always  a  whimsical  woman.     Per- 

23 


AUNT  JANE'S   NIECES. 

haps  she  thinks  we  are  quite  destitute,  and  fears 
you  would  not  be  able  to  present  a  respectable 
appearance  at  Elmhurst  without  this  assistance. 
But  it  is  an  evidence  of  her  good  intentions. 
Finding  death  near  at  hand  she  is  obliged  to  se- 
lect an  heir,  and  so  invites  you  to  visit  her  that 
she  may  study  your  character  and  determine 
whether  you  are  worthy  to  inherit  her  fortune." 

The  girl  laughed,  lightly. 

"It  will  be  easy  to  cajole  the  old  lady,"  she 
said.  "In  two  days  I  can  so  win  her  heart  that 
she  will  regret  she  has  neglected  me  so  long." 

"Exactly." 

"If  I  get  her  money  we  will  change  our  plans, 
and  abandon  the  adventure  we  were  forced  to  un- 
dertake. But  if,  for  any  reason,  that  plan  goes 
awry,  we  can  fall  back  upon  this  prettily  con- 
ceived scheme  which  we  have  undertaken.  As 
you  say,  it  is  well  to  have  two  strings  to  one's 
bow;  and  during  July  and  August  everyone 
will  be  out  of  town,  and  so  we  shall  lose  no  val- 
uable time." 

Mrs.  Merrick  did  not  reply.  She  stitcheJ 
away  in  a  methodical  manner,  as  if  abstracted, 

24 


AUNT  JANE'S   NIECES. 

and  Louise  crossed  her  delicate  hands  behind  her 
head  and  gazed  at  her  mother  reflectively.  Pres- 
ently she  said : 

"Tell  me  more  of  my  father's  family.    Is  this 
rich  aunt  of  mine  the  only  relative  he  had?" 

"No,  indeed.  There  were  two  other  sisters 
and  a  brother — a  very  uninteresting  lot,  with  the 
exception  of  your  poor  father.  The  eldest  was 
John  Merrick,  a  common  tinsmith,  if  I  remember 
rightly,  who  went  into  the  far  west  many  years 
ago  and  probably  died  there,  for  he  was  never 
heard  from.  Then  came  Jane,  who  in  her  young 
days  had  some  slight  claim  to  beauty.  Anyway, 
she  won  the  heart  of  Thomas  Bradley,  the  wealthy 
young  man  I  referred  to,  and  she  must  have  been 
clever  to  have  induced  him  to  leave  her  his  money. 
Your  father  was  a  year  or  so  younger  than  Jane, 
and  after  him  came  Julia,  a  coarse  and  disagree- 
able creature  who  married  a  music-teacher  and 
settled  in  some  out-of-the-way  country  town. 
Once,  while  your  father  was  alive,  she  visited  us 
for  a  few  days,  with  her  baby  daughter,  and 
nearly  drove  us  all  crazy.  Perhaps  she  did  not 
find  us  very  hospitable,  for  we  were  too  poor  to 

25 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

entertain  lavishly.  Anyway,  she  went  away  sud- 
denly after  you  had  a  fight  with  her  child  and 
nearly  pulled  its  hair  out  by  the  roots,  and  I  have 
never  heard  of  her  since." 

"A  daughter,  eh,"  said  Louise,  musingly. 
"Then  this  rich  Aunt  Jane  has  another  niece  be- 
sides myself." 

"Perhaps  two,"  returned  Mrs.  Merrick;  "for 
her  youngest  sister,  who  was  named  Violet,  mar- 
ried a  vagabond  Irishman  and  had  a  daughter 
about  a  year  younger  than  you.  The  mother  died, 
but  whether  the  child  survived  her  or  not  I  have 
never  learned." 

"What  was  her  name?"  asked  Louise. 

"I  cannot  remember.  But  it  is  unimportant. 
You  are  the  only  Merrick  of  them  all,  and  that  is 
doubtless  the  reason  Jane  has  sent  for  you." 

The  girl  shook  her  blonde  head. 

"I  don't  like  it,"  she  observed. 

"Don't  like  what?" 

"All  this  string  of  relations.  It  complicates 
matters." 

Mrs.  Merrick  seemed  annoyed. 

"If  you  fear  your  own  persuasive  powers," 

26 


AUNT  JANE'S   NIECES. 

she  said,  with  almost  a  sneer  in  her  tones,  "you'd 
better  not  go  to  Elmhurst.  One  or  the  other  of 
your  country  cousins  might  supplant  you  in  your 
dear  aunt's  affections." 

The  girl  yawned  and  took  up  her  neglected 
novel. 

"Nevertheless,  mater  dear,"  she  said  briefly, 
"I  shall  go." 


-7 


CHAPTER  III. 


PATSY. 

"Now,  Major,  stand  up  straight  and  behave 
yourself !  How  do  you  expect  me  to  sponge  your 
vest  when  you're  wriggling  around  in  that  way  ?" 

"Patsy,  dear,  you're  so  sweet  this  avening, 
I  just  had  to  kiss  your  lips." 

"Don't  do  it  again,  sir,"  replied  Patricia, 
severely,  as  she  scrubbed  the  big  man's  waistcoat 
with  a  damp  cloth.  "And  tell  me,  Major,  how 
you  ever  happened  to  get  into  such  a  disgraceful 
condition." 

"The  soup  just  shpilled,"  said  the  Major, 
meekly. 

Patricia  laughed  merrily.  She  was  a  tiny 
thing,  appearing  to  be  no  more  than  twelve  years 
old,  although  in  reality  she  was  sixteen.  Her 
hair  was  a  decided  red — not  a  beautiful  "auburn," 

28 


AUNT  JANE'S   NIECES. 

but  really  red — and  her  round  face  was  badly 
freckled.  Her  nose  was  too  small  and  her  mouth 
too  wide  to  be  beautiful,  but  the  girl's  wonderful 
blue  eyes  fully  redeemed  these  faults  and  led  the 
observer  to  forget  all  else  but  their  fascinations. 
They  could  really  dance,  these  eyes,  and  send  out 
magnetic,  scintillating  sparks  of  joy  and  laughter 
that  were  potent  to  draw  a  smile  from  the  sourest 
visage  they  smiled  upon.  Patricia  was  a  favorite 
with  all  who  knew  her,  but  the  big,  white-mous- 
tached  Major  Doyle,  her  father,  positively  wor- 
shipped her,  and  let  the  girl  rule  him  as  her  fancy 
dictated. 

"Now,  sir,  you're  fairly  decent  again,"  she 
said,  after  a  few  vigorous  scrubs.  "So  put  on 
your  hat  and  we'll  go  out  to  dinner." 

They  occupied  two  small  rooms  at  the  top  of 
a  respectable  but  middle-class  tenement  building, 
and  had  to  descend  innumerable  flights  of  bare 
wooden  stairs  before  they  emerged  upon  a  narrow 
street  thronged  with  people  of  all  sorts  and  de- 
scriptions except  those  who  were  too  far  re- 
moved from  the  atmosphere  of  Duggan  street 
to  know  that  it  existed. 

29 


AUNT  JANE'S   NIECES. 

The  big  major  walked  stiffly  and  pompously 
along,  swinging  his  silver-trimmed  cane  in  one 
hand  while  Patricia  clung  to  his  other  arm.  The 
child  wore  a  plain  grey  cloak,  for  the  evening 
was  chill.  She  had  a  knack  of  making  her  own 
clothes,  all  of  simple  material  and  fashion,  but 
fitting  neatly  and  giving  her  an  air  of  quiet  re- 
finement that  made  more  than  one  passer-by  turn 
to  look  back  at  her  curiously. 

After  threading  their  way  for  several  blocks 
they  turned  in  at  the  open  door  of  an  unobtrusive 
restaurant  where  many  of  the  round  white  tables 
were  occupied  by  busy  and  silent  patrons. 

The  proprietor  nodded  to  the  major  and  gave 
Patricia  a  smile.  There  was  no  need  to  seat 
them,  for  they  found  the  little  table  in  the  corner 
where  they  were  accustomed  to  eat,  and  sat  down. 

"Did  you  get  paid  tonight?"  asked  the  girl. 

"To  be  sure,  my  Patsy." 

"Then  hand  over  the  coin,"  she  commanded. 

The  major  obeyed.  She  counted  it  carefully 
and  placed  it  in  her  pocketbook,  afterwards  pass- 
ing a  half-dollar  back  to  her  father. 

"Remember,  Major,  no  riotous  living!    Make 

30 


AUNT  JANE'S   NIECES. 

that  go  as  far  as  you  can,  and  take  care  not  to 
invite  anyone  to  drink  with  you." 

"Yes,  Patsy." 

"And  now  I'll  order  the  dinner." 

The  waiter  was  bowing  and  smiling  beside 
her.  Everyone  smiled  at  Patsy,  it  seemed. 

They  gave  the  usual  order,  and  then,  after  a 
moment's  hesitation,  she  added: 

"And  a  bottle  of  claret  for  the  Major." 

Her  father  fairly  gasped  with  amazement. 

"Patsy!" 

People  at  the  near-by  tables  looked  up  as  her 
gay  laugh  rang  out,  and  beamed  upon  her  in 
sympathy. 

"I'm  not  crazy  a  bit,  Major,"  said  she,  pat- 
ting the  hand  he  had  stretched  toward  her,  part- 
ly in  delight  and  partly  in  protest.  "I've  just 
had  a  raise,  that's  all,  and  we'll  celebrate  the  oc- 
casion." 

Her  father  tucked  the  napkin  under  his  chin 
then  looked  at  her  questioningly. 
"Tell  me,  Patsy." 

"Madam  Borne  sent  me  to  a  swell  house  on 
Madison  Avenue  this  morning,  because  all  her 

31 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

women  were  engaged.  I  dressed  the  lady's  hair 
in  my  best  style,  Major,  and  she  said  it  was 
much  more  becoming  than  Juliette  ever  made 
it.  Indeed,  she  wrote  a  note  to  Madam,  asking 
her  to  send  me,  hereafter,  instead  of  Juliette,  and 
Madam  patted  my  head  and  said  I  would  be  a 
credit  to  her,  and  my  wages  would  be  ten  dol- 
lars a  week,  from  now  on.  Ten 'dollars,  Major! 

As  much  as  you  earn  yourself  at  that  miserable 
bookkeeping !" 

"Sufferin'  Moses!"  ejaculated  the  astonished 
major,  staring  back  into  her  twinkling  eyes.  "If 
this  kapes  on,  we'll  be  millionaires,  Patsy." 

"We're  millionaires,  now,"  responded  Patsy, 
promptly,  "because  we've  health,  and  love,  and 
contentment — and  enough  money  to  keep  us 
from  worrying.  Do  you  know  what  I've  de- 
cided, Major,  dear?  You  shall  go  to  make  that 
visit  to  your  colonel  that  you've  so  long  wanted 
to  have.  The  vacation  will  do  you  good,  and 
you  can  get  away  all  during  July,  because  you 
haven't  rested  for  five  years.  I  went  to  see  Mr. 
Conover  this  noon,  and  he  said  he'd  give  you  the 

32 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

month  willingly,  and  keep  the  position  for  you 
when  you  returned." 

"What!  You  spoke  to  old  Conover  about 
me?" 

"This  noon.  It's  all  arranged,  daddy,  and 
you'll  just  have  a  glorious  time  with  the  old 
colonel.  Bless  his  dear  heart,  he'll  be  overjoyed 
to  have  you  with  him,  at  last." 

The  major  pulled  out  his  handkerchief,  blew 
his  nose  vigorously,  and  then  surreptitiously 
wiped  his  eyes. 

"Ah,  Patsy,  Patsy;  it's  an  angel  you  are,  and 
nothing  less  at  all,  at  all." 

"Rubbish,  Major.  Try  your  claret,  and  see 
if  it's  right.  And  eat  your  fish  before  it  gets 
cold.  I'll  not  treat  you  again,  sir,  unless  you 
try  to  look  happy.  Why,  you  seem  as  glum  as 
old  Conover  himself!" 

The  major  was  positively  beaming. 
"Would   it   look  bad   for  me   to  kiss   you, 
Patsy?" 
"Now?" 

"Now  and  right  here  in  this  very  room!" 
"Of  course  it  would.     Try  and  behave,  like 

33 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

the  gentleman  you  are,  and  pay  attention  to  your 
dinner!" 

It  was  a  glorious  meal.  The  cost  was  twen- 
ty-five cents  a  plate,  but  the  gods  never  feasted 
more  grandly  in  Olympus  than  these  two  simple, 
loving  souls  in  that  grimy  Duggan  street  res- 
taurant. 

Over  his  coffee  the  major  gave  a  sudden 
siart  and  looked  guiltily  into  Patricia's  eyes. 

"Now,  then,"  she  said,  quickly  catching  the 
expression,  "out  with  it." 

"It's  a  letter,"  said  the  major.  "It  came 
yesterday,  or  mayhap  the  day  before.  I  don't 
just  remember." 

"A  letter!  And  who  from?"  she  cried, 
surprised. 

"An  ould  vixen." 

"And  who  may  that  be?" 

"Your  mother's  sister  Jane.  I  can  tell  by 
the  emblem  on  the  flap  of  the  envelope,"  said 
he,  drawing  a  crumpled  paper  from  his  breast 
pocket. 

"Oh,  that  person,"  said  Patsy,  with  scorn. 
"Whatever  induced  her  to  write  to  me?"' 

34 


AUNT  JANE'S   NIECES. 

"You  might  read  it  and  find  out,"  suggested 
the  major. 

Patricia  tore  open  the  envelope  and  scanned 
the  letter.  Her  eyes  blazed. 

"What  is  it,  Mavoureen?" 

"An  insult!"  she  answered,  crushing  the  pa- 
per in  her  hand  and  then  stuffing  it  into  the  pock- 
et of  her  dress.  "Light  your  pipe,  daddy,  dear. 
Here — I'll  strike  the  match." 


35 


CHAPTER  IV. 


LOUISE    MAKES    A    DISCOVERY. 

"How  did  you  enjoy  the  reception,  Louise?" 

"Very  well,  mamma.  But  I  made  the  dis- 
covery that  my  escort,  Harry  Wyndham,  is  only 
a  poor  cousin  of  the  rich  Wyndham  family,  and 
will  never  have  a  penny  he  doesn't  earn  him- 
self." 

"I  knew  that/'  said  Mrs.  Merrick.  "But 
Harry  has  the  entree  into  some  very  exclusive 
social  circles.  I  hope  you  treated  him  nicely, 
Louise.  He  can  be  of  use  to  us." 

"Oh,  yes,  I  think  I  interested  him;  but  he's 
a  very  stupid  boy.  By  the  way,  mamma,  I  had 
an  adventure  last  evening,  which  I  have  had  no 
time  to  tell  you  of  before." 

"Yes?" 

"It  has  given  me  quite  a  shock.     You  no- 

36 


AUNT  JANE'S   NIECES. 

ticed  the  maid  you  ordered  to  come  from  Madam 
Borne  to  dress  my  hair  for  the  reception?" 

"I  merely  saw  her.  Was  she  unsatisfac- 
tory?" 

"She  was  very  clever.  I  never  looked  pret- 
tier, I  am  sure.  The  maid  is  a  little,  demure 
thing,  very  young  for  such  a  position,  and  posi- 
tively homely  and  common  in  appearance.  But 
I  hardly  noticed  her  until  she  dropped  a  letter 
from  her  clothing.  It  fell  just  beside  me,  and  I 
saw  that  it  was  addressed  to  no  less  a  personage 
than  my  rich  aunt,  Miss  Jane  Merrick,  at  Elm- 
hurst.  Curious  to  know  why  a  hair-dresser 
should  be  in  correspondence  with  Aunt  Jane,  I 
managed  to  conceal  the  letter  under  my  skirts 
until  the  maid  was  gone.  Then  I  put  it  away 
until  after  the  reception.  It  was  sealed  and 
stamped,  all  ready  for  the  post,  but  I  moistened 
the  flap  and  easily  opened  it.  Guess  what  I 
read?" 

"I've  no  idea/'  replied  Mrs.  Merrick. 

"Here  it  is,"  continued  Louise,  producing  a 
letter  and  carefully  unfolding  it.  "Listen  to  this, 
if  you  please:  'Aunt  Jane.'  She  doesn't  even 

37 


AUNT  JANE'S   NIECES. 

say  'dear'  or  'respected,'  you  observe.  'Your 
letter  to  me,  asking  me  to  visit  you,  is  almost  an 
insult  after  your  years  of  silence  and  neglect 
and  your  refusals  to  assist  my  poor  mother  when 
she  was  in  need.  Thank  God  we  can  do  without 
your  friendship  and  assistance  now,  for  my  hon- 
ored father,  Major  Gregory  Doyle,  is  very  pros- 
perous and  earns  all  we  need.  I  return  your 
check  .with  my  compliments.  If  you  are  really 
ill,  I  am  sorry  for  you,  and  would  go  to  nurse 
you  were  you  not  able  to  hire  twenty  nurses,  each 
of  whom  would  have  fully  as  much  love  and  far 
more  respect  for  you  than  could  ever 
Your  indignant  niece, 

Patricia  Doyle/ 

"What  do  you  think  of  that,  mamma?" 

"It's  very  strange,  Louise.  This  hair-dresser 
is  your  own  cousin." 

"So  it  seems.  And  she  must  be  poor,  or  she 
wouldn't  go  out  as  a  sort  of  lady's  maid.  I  re- 
member scolding  her  severely  for  pulling  my  hair 
at  one  time,  and  she  was  as  meek  as  Moses,  and 
never  answered  a  word." 

"She   has   a    temper   though,    as   this    letter 

38 


AUNT  JANE'S   NIECES. 

proves,"  said  Mrs.  Merrick;  "and  I  admire  her 
for  the  stand  she  has  taken." 

"So  do  I,"  rejoined  Louise  with  a  laugh,  "for 
it  removes  a  rival  from  my  path.  You  will  no- 
tice that  Aunt  Jane  has  sent  her  a  check  for  the 
same  amount  she  sent  me.  Here  it  is,  folded  in 
the  letter.  Probably  my  other  cousin,  the  De 
Graf  girl,  is  likewise  invited  to  Elmhurst?  Aunt 
Jane  wanted  us  all,  to  see  what  we  were  like,  and 
perhaps  to  choose  between  us." 

"Quite  likely,"  said  Mrs.  Merrick,  uneasily 
watching  her  daughter's  face. 

"That  being  the  case,"  continued  Louise,  "I 
intend  to  enter  the  competition.  With  this  child 
Patricia  out  of  the  wray,  it  will  be  a  simple  duel 
with  my  unknown  De  Graf  cousin  for  my  aunt's 
favor,  and  the  excitement  will  be  agreeable  even 
if  I  am  worsted." 

"There's  no  danger  of  that,"  said  her  mother, 
calmly.  "And  the  stakes  are  high,  Louise.  I've 
learned  that  your  Aunt  Jane  is  rated  as  worth 
a  half  million  dollars." 

"They  shall  be  mine,"  said  the  daughter, 
with  assurance.  "Unless,  indeed,  the  De  Graf 

39 


AUNT  JANE'S   NIECES. 

girl   is  most  wonderfully  clever.     What  is  her 
name?" 

"Elizabeth,  if  I  remember  rightly.  But  I  am 
not  sure  she  is  yet  alive,  my  dear.  I  haven't 
heard  of  the  De  Grafs  for  a  dozen  years." 

"Anyway  I  shall  accept  my  Aunt  Jane's  in- 
vitation, and  make  the  acceptance  as  sweet  as 
Patricia  Doyle's  refusal  is  sour.  Aunt  Jane  will 
be  simply  furious  when  she  gets  the  little  hair 
dresser's  note." 

"Will  you  send  it  on?" 

"Why  not?  It's  only  a  question  of  resealing 
the  envelope  and  mailing  it.  And  it  will  be  sure 
to  settle  Miss  Doyle's  chances  of  sharing  the  in- 
heritance, for  good  and  all." 

"And  the  check?" 

"Oh,  I  shall  leave  the  check  inside  the  envel- 
ope. It  wouldn't  be  at  all  safe  to  cash  it,  you 
know." 

"But  if  you  took  it  out  Jane  would  think 
the  girl  had  kept  the  money,  after  all,  and  would 
be  even  more  incensed  against  her." 

"No,"  said  Louise,  after  a  moment's  thought, 
"I'll  not  do  a  single  act  of  dishonesty  that  could 

40 


AUNT  JANE'S   NIECES. 

ever  by  any  chance  be  traced  to  my  door.  To 
be  cunning,  to  be  diplomatic,  to  play  the  game 
of  life  with  the  best  cards  we  can  draw,  is  every 
woman's  privilege.  But  if  I  can't  win  honestly, 
mater  dear,  I'll  quit  the  game,  for  even  money 
can't  compensate  a  girl  for  the  loss  of  her  self- 
respect." 

Mrs.  Merrick  cast  a  fleeting  glance  at  her 
daughter  and  smiled.  Perhaps  the  heroics  of 
Louise  did  not  greatly  impress  her. 


CHAPTER  V. 


AUNT  JANE. 

"Lift  me  up,  Phibbs — no,  not  that  way!  Con- 
found your  awkwardness — do  you  want  to  break 
my  bade?  There!  That's  better.  Now  the  pil- 
low at  my  head.  Oh — h.  What  are  you  bunk- 
ing at,  you  old  owl?" 

"Are  you  better  this  morning,  Miss  Jane?" 
asked  the  attendant,  with  grave  deference. 

"No;  I'm  worse." 

"You  look  brighter,  Miss  Jane." 

"Don't  be  stupid,  Martha  Phibbs.  I  know 
how  I  am,  better  than  any  doctor,  and  I  tell  you 
I'm  on  my  last  legs." 

"Anything  unusual,  Miss?" 

"Of  course.  I  can't  be  on  my  last  legs  regu- 
larly, can  I?" 

"I  hope  not,  Miss." 

42 


AUNT  JANE'S   NIECES. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that?  Are  you  try- 
ing to  insult  me,  now  that  I'm  weak  and  help- 
less? Answer  me,  you  gibbering  idiot!" 

"I'm  sure  you'll  feel  better  soon,  Miss.  Can't 
I  wheel  you  into  the  garden?  It's  a  beautiful 
day,  and  quite  sunny  and  warm  already." 

"Be  quick  about  it,  then;  and  don't  tire  me 
out  with  your  eternal  doddering.  When  a  thing 
has  to  be  done,  do  it.  That's  my  motto." 

"Yes,  Miss  Jane." 

Slowly  and  with  care  the  old  attendant 
wheeled  her  mistress's  invalid  chair  through  the 
doorway  of  the  room,  along  a  stately  passage, 
and  out  upon  a  broad  piazza  at  the  back  of  the 
mansion.  Here  were  extensive  and  carefully 
tended  gardens,  and  the  balmy  morning  air  was 
redolent  with  the  odor  of  flowers. 

Jane  Merrick  sniffed  the  fragrance  with  evi- 
dent enjoyment,  and  her  sharp  grey  eyes  spark- 
led as  she  allowed  them  to  roam  over  the  gor- 
geous expanse  of  colors  spread  out  before  her. 

"I'll  go  down,  I  guess,  Phibbs.  This  may  be 
my  last  day  on  earth,  and  I'll  spend  an  hour  with 

43 


AUNT  JANE'S   NIECES. 

my  flowers  before  I  bid  them  good-bye  for- 
ever." 

Phibbs  pulled  a  bell-cord,  and  a  soft  far- 
away jingle  was  heard.  Then  an  old  man  came 
slowly  around  the  corner  of  the  house.  His  bare 
head  was  quite  bald.  He  wore  a  short  canvas 
apron  and  carried  pruning-shears  in  one  hand. 
Without  a  word  of  greeting  to  his  mistress  or 
scarce  a  glance  at  her  half  recumbent  form,  he 
mounted  the  steps  of  the  piazza  and  assisted 
Phibbs  to  lift  the  chair  to  the  ground. 

"How  are  the  roses  coming  on,  James  ?" 

"Poorly,  Miss,"  he  answered,  and  turning 
his  back  returned  to  his  work  around  the  cor- 
ner. If  he  was  surly,  Miss  Jane  seemed  not  to 
mind  it.  Her  glance  even  softened  a  moment  as 
she  followed  his  retreating  form. 

But  now  she  was  revelling  amongst  the  flow- 
ers, which  she  seemed  to  love  passionately. 
Phibbs  wheeled  her  slowly  along  the  narrow 
paths  between  the  beds,  and  she  stopped  fre- 
quently to  fondle  a  blossom  or  pull  away  a  dead 
leaf  or  twig  from  a  bush.  The  roses  were  mag- 
nificent, in  spite  of  the  old  gardener's  croaking, 


AUNT  JANE'S   NIECES. 

and  the  sun  was  warm  and  grateful  and  the  hum 
of  the  bees  musical  and  sweet. 

"It's  hard  to  die  and  leave  all  this,  Phibbs," 
said  the  old  woman,  a  catch  in  her  voice.  "But 
it's  got  to  be  done." 

"Not  for  a  while  yet,  I  hope,  Miss  Jane." 

"It  won't  be  long,  Phibbs.  But  I  must  try  to 
live  until  my  nieces  come,  and  I  can  decide  which 
of  them  is  most  worthy  to  care  for  the  old  place 
when  I  am  gone." 

"Yes,  Miss." 

"I've  heard  from  two  of  them,  already.  They 
jumped  at  the  bait  I  held  out  quickly  enough; 
but  that's  only  natural.  And  the  letters  are  very 
sensible  ones,  too.  Elizabeth  DeGraf  says  she 
will  be  glad  to  come,  and  thanks  me  for  inviting 
her.  Louise  Merrick  is  glad  to  come,  also,  but 
hopes  I  am  deceived  about  my  health  and  that 
she  will  make  me  more  than  one  visit  after  we 
become  friends.  A  very  proper  feeling;  but  I'm 
not  deceived,  Phibbs.  My  end's  in  plain  sight." 

"Yes,  Miss  Jane." 

"And   somebody's   got   to   have   my   money 

45 


AUNT  JANE'S   NIECES. 

and  dear  Elmhurst  when  I'm  through  with  them. 
Who  will  it  be,  Phibbs?" 

"I'm  sure  I  don't  know,  Miss." 

"Nor  do  I.  The  money's  mine,  and  I  can  do 
what  I  please  with  it;  and  I'm  under  no  obliga- 
tion to  anyone." 

"Except  Kenneth,"  said  a  soft  voice  behind 
her. 

Jane  Merrick  gave  a  start  at  the  interrup- 
tion and  turned  red  and  angry  as,  without  look- 
ing around,  she  answered : 

"Stuff  and  nonsense!  I  know  my  duties  and 
my  business,  Silas  Watson." 

"To  be  sure,"  said  a  little,  withered  man, 
passing  around  the  chair  and  facing  the  old  wo- 
man with  an  humble,  deprecating  air.  He  was 
clothed  in  black,  and  his  smooth-shaven,  deeply 
lined  face  was  pleasant  of  expression  and  not 
without  power  and  shrewd  intelligence.  The 
eyes,  however,  were  concealed  by  heavy-rimmed 
spectacles,  and  his  manner  was  somewhat  shy 
and  reserved.  However,  he  did  not  hesitate  to 
speak  frankly  to  his  old  friend,  nor  minded  in 
the  least  if  he  aroused  her  ire. 

46 


AUNT  JANE'S   NIECES. 

"No  one  knows  better  than  you,  dear  Miss 
Jane,  her  duties  and  obligations ;  and  no  one  per- 
forms them  more  religiously.  But  your  recent 
acts,  I  confess,  puzzle  me.  Why  should  you 
choose  from  a  lot  of  inexperienced,  incompetent 
girls  a  successor  to  Thomas  Bradley's  fortune, 
when  he  especially  requested  you  in  his  will  to 
look  after  any  of  his  relatives,  should  they  need 
assistance?  Kenneth  Forbes,  his  own  nephew, 
was  born  after  Tom's  death,  to  be  sure;  but  he 
is  alone  in  the  world  now,  an  orphan,  and  has 
had  no  advantages  to  help  him  along  in  life 
since  his  mother's  death  eight  years  ago.  I 
think  Tom  Bradley  must  have  had  a  premoni- 
tion of  what  was  to  come  even  though  his  sister 
was  not  married  at  the  time  of  his  death,  and  I 
am  sure  he  would  want  you  to  help  Kenneth 
now." 

"He  placed  me  under  no  obligations  to  leave 
the  boy  any  money,"  snapped  the  old  woman, 
white  with  suppressed  wrath,  "you  know  that 
well  enough,  Silas  Watson,  for  you  drew  up  the 
will." 

The   old   gentleman   slowly   drew   a   pattern 

47 


AUNT  JANE'S   NIECES. 

upon  the  gravelled  walk  with  the  end  of  his 
walking-stick. 

"Yes,  I  drew  up  the  will,"  he  said,  deliber- 
ately, "and  I  remember  that  he  gave  to  you,  his 
betrothed  bride,  all  that  he  possessed — gave  it 
gladly  and  lovingly,  and  without  reserve.  He 
was  very  fond  of  you,  Miss  Jane.  But  perhaps 
his  conscience  pricked  him  a  bit,  after  all,  for 
he  added  the  words :  'I  shall  expect  you  to  look 
after  the  welfare  of  my  only  relative,  my  sister, 
Katherine  Bradley — or  any  of  her  heirs.'  It 
appears  to  me,  Miss  Jane,  that  that  is  a  distinct 
obligation.  The  boy  is  now  sixteen  and  as  fine 
a  fellow  as  one  often  meets." 

"Bah!  An  imbecile — an  awkward,  ill-man- 
nered brat  who  is  only  fit  for  a  stable-boy!  1 
know  him,  Silas,  and  I  know  he'll  never  amount 
to  a  hill  of  beans.  Leave  him  my  money?  Not 
if  I  hadn't  a  relative  on  earth !." 

"You  misjudge  him,  Jane.  Kenneth  is  all 
right  if  you'll  treat  him  decently.  But  he  won't 
stand  your  abuse  and  I  don't  think  the  less  of 
him  for  that." 

"Why  abuse?     Haven't  I  given  him  a  home 

48 


AUNT  JANE'S   NIECES. 

and  an  education,  all  because  Thomas  asked  we 
to  look  after  his  relatives?  And  he's  been  re- 
bellious and  pig-headed  and  sullen  in  return  for 
my  kindness,  so  naturally  there's  little  love  lost 
between  us." 

"You  resented  your  one  obligation,  Jane;  and 
although  you  fulfilled  it  to  the  letter  you  did  not 
in  the  spirit  of  Tom  Bradley's  request.  I  don't 
blame  the  boy  for  not  liking  you." 

"Sir!" 

"All  right,  Jane;  fly  at  me  if  you  will,"  said 
the  little  man,  with  a  smile;  "but  I  intend  to  tell 
you  frankly  what  I  think  of  your  actions,  just  as 
long  as  we  remain  friends." 

Her  stern  brows  unbent  a  trifle. 

"That's  why  we  are  friends,  Silas;  and  it's 
useless  to  quarrel  with  you  now  that  I'm  on  my 
last  legs.  A  few  days  more  will  end  me,  I'm 
positive;  so  bear  with  me  a  little  longer,  my 
friend." 

He  took  her  withered  hand  in  his  and  kissed 
it  gently. 

"You're  not  so  very  bad,  Jane,"  said  he,  "and 
I'm  almost  sure  you  will  be  with  us  for  a  long 

49 


AUNT  JANE'S   NIECES. 

time  to  come.  But  you're  more  nervous  and 
irritable  than  usual,  I'll  admit,  and  I  fear  this  in- 
vasion of  your  nieces  won't  be  good  for  you. 
Are  they  really  coming?" 

"Two  of  them  are,  I'm  sure,  for  they've  ac- 
cepted my  invitation,"  she  replied. 

"Here's  a  letter  that  just  arrived,"  he  said, 
taking  it  from  his  pocket.  "Perhaps  it  contains 
news  from  the  third  niece." 

"My  glasses,  Phibbs!"  cried  Miss  Jane, 
eagerly,  and  the  attendant  started  briskly  for  the 
house  to  get  them. 

"What  do  you  know  about  these  girls?'' 
asked  the  old  lawyer  curiously. 

"Nothing  whatever.  I  scarcely  knew  of  their 
existence  until  you  hunted  them  out  for  me  and 
found  they  were  alive.  But  I'm  going  to  know 
them,  and  study  them,  and  the  one  that's  most 
capable  and  deserving  shall  have  my  property." 

Mr.  Watson  sighed. 

"And  Kenneth?"  he  asked. 

"I'll  provide  an  annuity  for  the  boy,  although 
it's  more  than  he  deserves.  When  I  realized 
that  death  was  creeping  upon  me  I  felt  a  strange 

50 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

desire  to  bequeath  my  fortune  to  one  of  my  own 
flesh  and  blood.  Perhaps  I  didn't  treat  my 
brothers  and  sisters  generously  in  the  old  days, 
Silas." 

"Perhaps  not,"  he  answered. 

"So  I'll  make  amends  to  one  of  their  chil- 
dren. That  is,  if  any  one  of  the  three  nieces 
should  prove  worthy." 

"I  see.  But  if  neither  of  the  three  is 
worthy?" 

"Then  I'll  leave  every  cent  to  charity — ex- 
cept Kenneth's  annuity." 

The  lawyer  smiled. 

"Let  us  hope,"  said  he,  "that  they  will  prove 
all  you  desire.  It  would  break  my  heart,  Jane, 
to  see  Elmhurst  turned  into  a  hospital." 

Phibbs  arrived  with  the  spectacles,  and  Jane 
Merrick  read  her  letter,  her  face  growing  harder 
with  every  line  she  mastered.  Then  she  crum- 
pled the  paper  fiercely  in  both  hands,  and  a  mo- 
ment later  smoothed  it  out  carefully  and  replaced 
it  in  the  envelope. 

Silas  Watson  had  watched  her  silently. 

51 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

"Well,"  said  he,  at  last,  "another  accept- 
ance?" 

"No,  a  refusal,"  said  she.  "A  refusal  from 
the  Irishman's  daughter,  Patricia  Doyle." 

"That's  bad,"  he  remarked,  but  in  a  tone  of 
relief. 

"I  don't  see  it  in  that  light  at  all,"  replied 
Miss  Jane.  "The  girl  is  right.  It's  the  sort  of 
letter  I'd  have  written  myself,  under  the  circum- 
stances. I'll  write  again,  Silas,  and  humble  my- 
self, and  try  to  get  her  to  come." 

"You  surprise  me!"  said  the  lawyer. 

"I  surprise  myself,"  retorted  the  old  woman, 
"but  I  mean  to  know  more  of  this  Patricia 
Doyle.  Perhaps  I've  found  a  gold  mine,  Silas 
Watson!" 


CHAPTER  VI. 


THE    BOY. 

Leaving  the  mistress  of  Elmhurst  among  her 
flowers,  Silas  Watson  walked  slowly  and 
thoughtfully  along  the  paths  until  he  reached  the 
extreme  left  wing  of  the  rambling  old  mansion. 
Here,  half  hidden  by  tangled  vines  of  climbing 
roses,  he  came  to  a  flight  of  steps  leading  to  an 
iron-railed  balcony,  and  beyond  this  was  a  nar- 
row stairway  to  the  rooms  in  the  upper  part  of 
the  wing. 

Miss  Merrick,  however  ungenerous  she 
might  have  been  to  others,  had  always  main- 
tained Elmhurst  in  a  fairly  lavish  manner. 
There  were  plenty  of  servants  to  look  after  the 
house  and  gardens,  and  there  were  good  horses 
in  the  stables.  Whenever  her  health  permitted 
she  dined  in  state  each  evening  in  the  great  din- 

53 


AUNT  JANE'S   NIECES. 

ing-room,  solitary  and  dignified,  unless  on  rare 
occasions  her  one  familiar,  Silas  Watson,  occu- 
pied the  seat  opposite  her.  "The  boy,"  as  he 
was  contemptuously  called,  was  never  permitted 
to  enter  this  room.  Indeed,  it  would  be  difficult 
to  define  exactly  Kenneth  Forbes'  position  at 
Elmhurst.  He  had  lived  there  ever  since  his 
mother's  death,  when,  a  silent  and  unattractive 
lad  of  eight,  Mr.  Watson  had  brought  him  to 
Jane  Merrick  and  insisted  upon  her  providing 
a  home  for  Tom  Bradley's  orphaned  nephew. 

She  accepted  the  obligation  reluctantly 
enough,  giving  the  child  a  small  room  in  the  left 
wing,  as  far  removed  from  her  own  apartments 
as  possible,  and  transferring  all  details  of  his 
care  to  Misery  Agnew,  the  old  housekeeper. 
Misery  endeavored  to  "do  her  duty"  by  the  boy, 
but  appreciating  the  scant  courtesy  with  which 
he  was  treated  by  her  mistress,  it  is  not  surpris- 
ing the  old  woman  regarded  him  merely  as  a  de- 
pendent and  left  him  mostly  to  his  own  devices. 

Kenneth,  even  in  his  first  days  at  Elmhurst, 
knew  that  his  presence  was  disagreeable  to  Miss 
Jane,  and  as  the  years  dragged  on  he  grew  shy 

54 


AUNT  JANE'S   NIECES. 

and  retiring,  longing  to  break  away  from  his 
unpleasant  surroundings,  but  knowing  of  no 
other  place  where  he  would  be  more  welcome. 
His  only  real  friend  was  the  lawyer,  who  neg- 
lected no  opportunity  to  visit  the  boy  and  chat 
with  him  in  his  cheery  manner.  Mr.  Watson 
also  arranged  with  the  son  of  the  village  curate 
to  tutor  Kenneth  and  prepare  him  for  college; 
but  either  the  tutor  was  incompetent  or  the  pupil 
did  not  apply  himself,  for  at  twenty  Kenneth 
Forbes  was  very  ignorant,  indeed,  and  seemed 
not  to  apply  himself  properly  to  his  books. 

He  was  short  of  stature  and  thin,  with  a  sad 
drawn  face  and  manners  that  even  his  staunch 
friend,  Silas  Watson,  admitted  were  awkward 
and  unprepossessing.  What  he  might  have  been 
under  different  conditions  or  with  different  treat- 
ment, could  only  be  imagined.  Slowly  climbing 
the  stairs  to  the  little  room  Kenneth  inhabited, 
Mr.  Watson  was  forced  to  conclude,  with  a  sigh 
of  regret,  that  he  could  not  blame  Miss  Jane  for 
wishing  to  find  a  more  desirable  heir  to  her  es- 
tate than  this  graceless,  sullen  youth  who  had 
been  thrust  upon  her  by  a  thoughtless  request 

55 


AUNT  JANE'S   NIECES. 

contained  in  the  will  of  her  dead  lover — a  re- 
quest that  she  seemed  determined  to  fulfil  liter- 
ally, as  it  only  required  her  to  "look  after"  Tom's 
relatives  and  did  not  oblige  her  to  leave  Ken- 
neth her  property. 

Yet,  strange  as  it  may  seem,  the  old  lawyer 
was  exceedingly  iond  of  the  boy,  and  longed  to 
see  him   the  master  of  Elmhurst.      Sometimes, 
when  they  were  alone,  Kenneth  forgot  his  sense 
of  injury  and  dependence,  and  spoke  so  well  and 
with  such  animation  that  Mr.  Watson  was  as- 
tonished,  and   believed   that  hidden   underneath 
the  mask  of  reserve  was  another  entirely  differ- 
ent personality,  that  in  the  years  to  come  might 
change  the  entire  nature  of  the  neglected  youth 
and  win  for  him  the  respect  and  admiration  of 
the  world.    But  these  fits  of  brightness  and  geni- 
ality were  rare.    Only  the  lav/yer  had  as  yet  dis- 
covered them. 

Today  he  found  the  boy  lying  listlessly  upon 
the  window-seat,  an  open  book  in  his  hand,  but 
his  eyes  fixed  dreamily  upon  the  grove  of  huge 
elm  trees  that  covered  the  distant  hills. 

"Morning,  Ken,"  said  he,  briefly,  sitting  be- 

56 


AUNT  JANE'S   NIECES. 

side  his  young  friend  and  taking  the  book  in  his 
own  hand.  The  margins  of  the  printed  pages 
were  fairly  covered  with  drawings  of  every 
description.  The  far  away  trees  were  there  and 
the  near-by  rose  gardens.  There  was  a  cat  spit- 
ting at  an  angry  dog,  caricatures  of  old  Misery 
and  James,  the  gardener,  and  of  Aunt  Jane  and 
even  Silas  Watson  himself — all  so  clearly  de- 
picted that  the  lawyer  suddenly  wondered  if  they 
were  not  clever,  and  an  evidence  of  genius.  But 
the  boy  turned  to  look  at  him,  and  the  next  mo- 
ment seized  the  book  from  his  grasp  and  sent  it 
flying  through  the  open  window,  uttering  at  the 
same  time  a  rude  exclamation  of  impatience. 

The  lawyer  quietly  lighted  his  pipe. 

"Why  did  you  do  that,  Kenneth?"  he  asked. 
"The  pictures  are  clever  enough  to  be  preserved. 
I  did  not  know  you  have  a  talent  for  drawing." 

The  boy  glanced  at  him,  but  answered  noth- 
ing, and  the  lawyer  thought  best  not  to  pursue 
the  subject.  After  smoking  a  moment  in  silence 
he  remarked : 

"Your  aunt  is   failing  fast."      Although  no 

57 


AUNT  JANE'S   NIECES. 

relative,  Kenneth  had  been  accustomed  to  speak 
of  Jane  Merrick  as  his  aunt. 

Getting  neither  word  nor  look  in  reply  the 
lawyer  presently  continued: 

"I  do  not  think  she  will  live  much  longer." 

The  boy  stared  from  the  window  and 
drummed  on  the  sill  with  his  fingers. 

"When  she  dies,"  said  Mr.  Watson,  in  a 
musing  tone,  "there  will  be  a  new  mistress  at 
Elmhurst  and  you  will  have  to  move  out." 

The  boy  now  turned  to  look  at  him,  enquir- 
ingly. 

"You  are  twenty,  and  you  are  not  ready  for 
college.  You  would  be  of  no  use  in  the  commer- 
cial world.  You  have  not  even  the  capacity  to 
become  a  clerk.  What  will  you  do,  Kenneth? 
Where  will  you  go?" 

The  boy  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"When  will  Aunt  Jane  die?"  he  asked. 

"I  hope  she  will  live  many  days  yet.  She 
may  die  Jtomorrow." 

"When  she  does,  I'll  answer  your  question," 
said  the  boy,  roughly.  "When  I'm  turned  out 
of  this  place — which  is  part  prison  and  part  par- 

58 


AUNT  JANE'S   NIECES. 

adise — I'll  do  something.  I  don't  know  what, 
and  I  won't  bother  about  it  till  the  time  comes. 
But  I'll  do  something." 

"Could  you  earn  a  living?"  asked  the  old 
lawyer. 

"Perhaps  not;  but  I'll  get  one.  Will  I  be  a 
beggar?" 

"I  don't  know.  It  depends  on  whether  Aunt 
Jane  leaves  you  anything  in  her  will." 

"I  hope  she  won't  leave  me  a  cent!"  cried 
the  boy,  with  sudden  fierceness.  "I  hate  her, 
and  will  be  glad  when  she  is  dead  and  out  of  my 
way !" 

"Kenneth— Kenneth,  lad!" 

"I  hate  her!"  he  persisted,  with  blazing  eyes. 
"She  has  insulted  me,  scorned  me,  humiliated 
me  every  moment  since  I  have  known  her.  I'll 
be  glad  to  have  her  die,  and  I  don't  want  a  cent 
of  her  miserable  money." 

"Money,"  remarked  the  old  man,  knocking 
the  ashes  from  his  pipe,  "is  very  necessary  to  one 
who  is  incompetent  to  earn  his  salt.  And  the 
money  she  leaves  you — if  she  really  does  leave 

59 


AUNT  JANE'S   NIECES. 

you  any — won't  be  her's,  remember,  but  your 
Uncle  Tom's." 

"Uncle  Tom  was  good  to  my  father,"  said 
the  boy,  softening. 

"Well,  Uncle  Tom  gave  his  money  to  Aunt 
Jane,  whom  he  had  expected  to  marry;  but  he 
asked  her  to  care  for  his  relatives,  and  she'll 
doubtless  give  you  enough  to  live  on.  But  the 
place  will  go  to  some  one  else,  and  that  means 
you  must  move  on." 

"Who  will  have  Elmhurst?"  asked  the  boy. 

"One  of  your  aunt's  nieces,  probably.  She 
has  three,  it  seems,  all  of  them  young  girls.,  and 
she  has  invited  them  to  come  here  to  visit  her." 

"Girls!  Girls  at  Elmhurst?"  cried  the  boy, 
shrinking  back  with  a  look  of  terror  in  his  eyes. 

"To  be  sure.  One  of  the  nieces,  it  seems,  re- 
fuses to  come;  but  there  will  be  two  of  them  to 
scramble  for  your  aunt's  affection." 

"She  has  none,"  declared  the  boy. 

"Or  her  money,  which  is  the  same  thing. 
The  one  she  likes  the  best  will  get  the  estate." 

Kenneth  smiled,  and  with  the  change  of  ex- 
pression his  face  lighted  wonderfully. 

60 


AUNT  JANE'S   NIECES. 

"Poor  Aunt !"  he  said.  "Almost  I  am  tempt- 
ed to  be  sorry  for  her.  Two  girls — fighting  one 
against  the  other  for  Elmhurst — and  both  fawn- 
ing be  fore,  a  cruel  and  malicious  old  woman  who 
could  never  love  anyone  but  herself." 

"And  her  flowers,"  suggested  the  lawyer. 

"Oh,  yes;  and  perhaps  James.  Tell  me,  why 
should  she  love  James,  who  is  a  mere  gardener, 
and  hate  me?" 

"James  tends  the  flowers,  and  the  flowers  are 
Jane  Merrick's  very  life.  Isn't  that  the  explana- 
tion?" 

"I  don't  know." 

"The  girls  need  not  worry  you,  Kenneth.  It 
will  be  easy  for  you  to  keep  out  of  their  way." 

"When  will  they  come?" 

"Next  week,  I  believe." 

The  boy  looked  around  helplessly,  with  the 
air  of  a  caged  tiger. 

"Perhaps  they  won't  know  I'm  here,"  he 
said. 

"Perhaps  not.  I'll  tell  Misery  to  bring  all 
your  meals  to  this  room,  and  no  one  ever  comes 
to  this  end  of  the  garden.  But  if  they  find  you, 

61 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

Kenneth,  and  scare  you  out  of  your  den,  run 
over  to  me,  and  I'll  keep  you  safe  until  the  girls 
are  gone." 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Watson,"  more  graciously 
than  was  his  wont.  "It  isn't  that  I'm  afraid  o.9 
girls,  you  know ;  but  they  may  want  to  insult  me, 
just  as  their  aunt  does,  and  I  couldn't  bear  any 
more  cruelty." 

"I  know  nothing  about  them,"  said  the  law- 
yer, "so  I  can't  vouch  in  any  way  for  Aunt  Jane's 
nieces.  But  they  are  young,  and  it  is  probable 
they'll  be  as  shy  and  uncomfortable  here  at  Elm- 
hurst  as  you  are  yourself.  And  after  all,  Ken- 
neth boy,  the  most  important  thing  just  now  is 
your  own  future.  What  in  the  world  is  to  be- 
come of  you?" 

"Oh,  that"  answered  the  boy,  relapsing 
into  his  sullen  mood;  "I  can't  see  that  it  matters 
much  one  way  or  another.  Anyhow,  I'll  not 
bother  my  head  about  it  until  the  time  comes 
and  as  far  as  you're  concerned,  it's  none  of  your 
business." 


62 


CHAPTER  VII. 


THE    FIRST    WARNING. 

For  a  day  or  two  Jane  Merrick  seemed  to 
improve  in  health.  Indeed,  Martha  Phibbs  de- 
clared her  mistress  was  better  than  she  had  been 
for  weeks.  Then,  one  night,  the  old  attendant 
was  awakened  by  a  scream,  and  rushed  to  her 
mistress'  side. 

"What  is  it,  ma'am?"  she  asked,  tremblingly. 

"My  leg!  I  can't  move  my  leg,"  gasped  the 
mistress  of  Elmhurst.  "Rub  it,  you  old  fool! 
Rub  it  till  you  drop,  and  see  if  you  can  bring 
back  the  life  to  it." 

Martha  rubbed,  of  course,  but  the  task  was 
useless.  Oscar  the  groom  was  sent  on  horseback 
for  the  nearest  doctor,  who  came  just  as  day  was 
breaking.  He  gave  the  old  woman  a  brief  ex- 
amination and  shook  his  head. 

63 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

"It's  the  first  warning,"said  he;  "but. nothing 
to  be  frightened  about.  That  is,  for  the  present." 

"Is  it  paralysis?"  asked  Jane  Merrick. 

"Yes;  a  slight  stroke." 

"But  I'll  have  another?" 

"Perhaps,  in  time." 

"How  long?" 

"It  may  be  a  week — or  a  month — or  a  year. 
Sometimes  there  is  never  another  stroke.  Don't 
worry,  ma'am.  Just  lie  still  and  be  comfortable." 

"Huh !"  grunted  the  old  woman.  But  she  be- 
came more  composed  and  obeyed  the  doctor's  in«- 
structions  with  unwonted  meekness.  Silas  Wat- 
son arrived  during  the  forenoon,  and  pressed  her 
thin  hand  with  real  sympathy,  for  these  two  were 
friends  despite  the  great  difference  in  their  tem- 
peraments. 

"Shall  I  draw  your  will,  Jane?"  he  asked. 
"No!"  she  snapped.     "I'm  not  going  to  die 
just  yet,  I  assure  you.     I  shall  live  to  carry  out 
my  plans,  Silas." 

She  did  live,  and  grew  better  as  the  days 
wore  on,  although  she  never  recovered  the  use  of 
the  paralyzed  limb. 

64 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

Each  day  Phibbs  drew  the  invalid  chair  to 
the  porch  and  old  James  lifted  it  to  the  garden 
walk,  where  his  mistress  might  enjoy  the  flowers 
he  so  carefully  and  skillfully  tended.  They 
seldom  spoke  together,  these  two;  yet  there 
seemed  a  strange  bond  of  sympathy  between 
them. 

At  last  the  first  of  July  arrived,  and  Oscar 
was  dispatched  to  the  railway  station,  four  miles 
distant,  to  meet  Miss  Elizabeth  De  Graf,  the  first 
of  the  nieces  to  appear  in  answer  to  Jane  Mer- 
rick's  invitation. 

Beth  looked  very  charming  and  fresh  in  her 
new  gown,  and  she  greeted  her  aunt  with  a  calm 
graciousness  that  would  have  amazed  the  profes- 
sor to  behold.  She  had  observed  carefully  the 
grandeur  and  beauty  of  Elmhurst,  as  she  drove 
through  the  grounds,  and  instantly  decided  the 
place  was  worth  an  effort  to  win. 

"So,  this  is  Elizabeth,  is  it?"  asked  Aunt 
Jane,  as  the  girl  stood  before  her  for  inspection. 
"You  may  kiss  me,  child." 

Elizabeth  advanced,  striving  to  quell  the  an- 
tipathy she  felt  to  kiss  the  stern  featured,  old 

65 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

woman,   and   touched  her   lips  to   the  wrinkled 
forehead. 

Jane  Merrick  laughed,  a  bit  sneeringly,  while 
Beth  drew  back,  still  composed,  and  looked  at 
her  relative  enquiringly. 

"Well,  what  do  you  think  of  me?"  demanded 
Aunt  Jane,  as  if  embarrassed  at  the  scrutiny  she 
received. 

"Surely,  it  is  too  early  to  ask  me  that,"  re- 
plied Beth,  gently.  "I  am  going  to  try  to  like 
you,  and  my  first  sight  of  my  new  aunt  leads  me 
to  hope  I  shall  succeed." 

"Why  shouldn't  you  like  me?"  cried  the  old 
woman.  "Why  must  you  try  to  like  your  moth- 
er's sister?" 

Beth  flushed.  She  had  promised  herself  not 
to  become  angry  or  discomposed,  whatever  her 
aunt  might  say  or  do;  but  before  she  could  con- 
trol herself  an  indignant  expression  flashed 
across  her  face  and  Jane  Merrick  saw  it. 

"There  are  reasons,"  said  Beth,  slowly,  "why 
your  name  is  seldom  mentioned  in  my  father's 
family.  Until  your  letter  came  I  scarcely  knew 
I  possessed  an  aunt.  It  was  your  desire  we 

66 


AUNT  JANE'S   NIECES. 

should  become  better  acquainted,  and  I  am  here 
for  that  purpose.  I  hope  we  shall  become 
friends,  Aunt  Jane,  but  until  then,  it  is  better 
we  should  not  discuss  the  past." 

The  woman  frowned.  It  was  not  difficult  ior 
her  to  read  the  character  of  the  child  before  her, 
and  she  knew  intuitively  that  Beth  was  strongly 
prejudiced  against  her,  but  was  honestly  trying 
not  to  allow  that  prejudice  to  influence  her.  She 
decided  to  postpone  further  interrogations  until 
another  time. 

"Your  journey  has  tired  you,"  she  said 
abruptly.  "I'll  have  Misery  show  you  to  your 
room." 

She  touched  a  bell  beside  her. 

"I'm  not  tired,  but  I'll  go  to  my  room,  if  you 
please,"  answered  Beth,  who  realized  that  she 
had  in  some  way  failed  to  make  as  favorable  an 
impression  as  she  had  hoped.  "When  may  I  see 
you  again?" 

"When  I  send  for  you,"  snapped  Aunt  Jane, 
as  the  housekeeper  entered.  "I  suppose  you 
know  I  am  a  paralytic,  and  liable  to  die  at  any 
time?" 

67 


AUNT   JANE'S   NIECES. 

"I  am  very  sorry,"  said  Beth,  hesitatingly. 
"You  do  not  seem  very  ill." 

"I'm  on  my  last  legs.  I  may  not  live  an 
hour.  But  that's  none  of  your  business,  I  sup- 
pose. By  the  way,  I  expect  your  cousin  on  the 
afternoon  train." 

Beth  gave  a  start  of  surprise. 

"My  cousin?"  she  asked. 

"Yes,  Louise  Merrick." 

"Oh!"  said  Beth,  and  stopped  short. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that?"  enquired 
Aunt  Jane,  with  a  smile  that  was  rather  mali- 
cious. 

"I  did  not  know  I  had  a  cousin,"  said  the 
girl.  "That  is,"  correcting  herself,  "I  did  not 
know  whether  Louise  Merrick  was  alive  or  not. 
Mother  has  mentioned  her  name  once  or  twice 
in  my  presence;  but  not  lately." 

"Well,  she's  alive.  Very  much  alive,  I  be- 
lieve. And  she's  coming  to  visit  me,  while  you 
are  here.  I  expect  you  to  be  friends." 

"To  be  sure,"  said  Beth,  nevertheless  discom- 
fited at  the  news. 

"We  dine  at  seven,"  said  Aunt  Jane.     "I  al- 

68 


AUNT  JANE'S   NIECES. 

ways  lunch  in  my  own  room,  and  you  may  do 
the  same,"  and  with  a  wave  of  her  thin  hand  she 
dismissed  the  girl,  who  thoughtfully  followed 
the  old  housekeeper  through  the  halls. 

It  was  not  going  to  be  an  easy  task  to  win 
this  old  woman's  affection.  Already  she  rebelled 
at  the  necessity  of  undertaking  so  distasteful  a 
venture  and  wondered  if  she  had  not  made  a  mis- 
take in  trying  to  curb  her  natural  frankness,  and 
to  conciliate  a  creature  whose  very  nature  seemed 
antagonistic  to  her  own.  And  this  new  cousin, 
Louise  Merrick,  why  was  she  coming  to  Elm- 
hurst?  To  compete  for  the  prize  Beth  had  al- 
ready determined  to  win?  In  that  case  she  must 
consider  carefully  her  line  of  action,  that  no 
rival  might  deprive  her  of  this  great  estate.  Beth 
felt  that  she  could  fight  savagely  for  an  object 
she  so  much  desired.  Her  very  muscles  hard- 
ened and  grew  tense  at  the  thought  of  conflict 
LS  she  walked  down  the  corridor  in  the  wake  of 
old  Misery  the  housekeeper.  She  had  always  re- 
sented the  sordid  life  at  Cloverton.  She  had 
been  discontented  with  her  lot  since  her  earliest 
girlhood,  and  longed  to  escape  the  constant  bick- 

69 


AUNT  JANE'S   NIECES. 

erings  of  her  parents  and  their  vain  struggles  to 
obtain  enough  money  to  "keep  up  appearances" 
and  drive  the  wolf  from  the  door.  And  here 
was  an  opportunity  to  win  a  fortune  and  a  home 
beautiful  enough  for  a  royal  princess.  All  that 
was  necessary  was  to  gain  the  esteem  of  a  crabbed, 
garrulous  old  woman,  who  had  doubtless  but  a 
few  more  weeks  to  live.  It  must  be  done,  in  one 
way  or  another;  but  how?  How  could  she  out- 
wit this  unknown  cousin,  and  inspire  the  love  of 
Aunt  Jane? 

"If  there's  any  stuff  of  the  right  sort  in  my 
nature,"  decided  the  girl,  as  she  entered  her 
pretty  bedchamber  and  threw  herself  into  a 
chair,  "I'll  find  a  way  to  win  out.  One  thing  is 
certain — I'll  never  again  have  another  chance  at 
so  fine  a  fortune,  and  if  I  fail  to  get  it  I  shall 
deserve  to  live  in  poverty  forever  afterward." 

Suddenly  she  noticed  the  old  housekeeper 
standing  before  her  and  regarding  her  with  a 
kindly  interest.  In  an  instant  she  sprang  up, 
threw  her  arms  around  Misery  and  kissed  her 
furrowed  cheek. 

"Thank  you  for  being  so  kind,"   said   she. 

70 


AUNT  JANE'S   NIECES. 

"I've  never  been  away  from  home  before  and 
you  must  be  a  mother  to  me  while  I'm  at  Elm- 
hurst" 

Old  Misery  smiled  and  stroked  the  girl's 
glossy  head. 

"Bless  the  child!"  she  said,  delightedly;  "of 
course  I'll  be  a  mother  to  you.  You'll  need  a  bit 
of  comforting  now  and  then,  my  dear,  if  you're 
going  to  live  with  Jane  Merrick." 

"Is  she  cross?"  asked  Beth,  softly. 

"At  times  she's  a  fiend,"  confided  the  old 
housekeeper,  in  almost  a  whisper.  "But  don't  you 
mind  her  tantrums,  or  lay  'em  to  heart,  and  you'll 
get  along  with  her  all  right." 

"Thank  you,"  said  the  girl.  "I'll  try  not  to 
mind." 

"Do  you  need  anything  else,  deary?"  asked 
Misery,  with  a  glance  around  the  room. 

"Nothing  at  all,  thank  you." 

The  housekeeper  nodded  and  softly  with- 
drew. 

"That  was  one  brilliant  move,  at  any  rate," 
said  Beth  to  herself,  as  she  laid  aside  her  hat 
and  prepared  to  unstrap  her  small  trunk.  "I've 


AUNT  JANE'S   NIECES. 

made  a  friend  at  Elmhurst  who  will  be  of  use  to 
me;  and  I  shall  make  more  before  long.  Come 
as  soon  as  you  like,  Cousin  Louise!  You'll  have 
to  be  more  clever  than  I  am,  if  you  hope  to  wi'n 
Elmhurst." 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


THE    DIPLOMAT. 

Aunt  Jane  was  in  her  garden,  enjoying  the 
flowers.  This  was  her  especial  garden,  sur- 
rounded by  a  high  box  hedge,  and  quite  distinct 
from  the  vast  expanse  of  shrubbery  and  flower- 
beds which  lent  so  much  to  the  beauty  of  the 
grounds  at  Elmhurst.  Aunt  Jane  knew  and 
loved  every  inch  of  her  property.  She  had 
watched  the  shrubs  personally  for  many  years, 
and  planned  all  the  alterations  and  the  construc- 
tion of  the  flower-beds  which  James  had  so  suc- 
cessfully attended  to.  Each  morning,  when  her 
health  permitted,  she  had  inspected  the  green- 
houses and  issued  her  brief  orders — brief  be- 
cause her  slightest  word  to  the  old  gardener  in- 
sured the  fulfillment  of  her  wishes.  But  this  bit 
of  garden  adjoining  her  own  rooms  was  her 

73 


AUNT  JANE'S   NIECES. 

especial  pride,  and  contained  the  choicest  plants 
she  had  been  able  to  secure.  So,  since  she  had 
been  confined  to  her  chair,  the  place  had  almost 
attained  to  the  dignity  of  a  private  drawing- 
room,  and  on  bright  days  she  spent  many  hours 
here,  delighting  to  feast  her  eyes  with  the  rich 
coloring  of  the  flowers  and  to  inhale  their  fra- 
grance. For  however  gruff  Jane  Merrick  might 
be  to  the  people  with  whom  she  came  in  contact, 
she  was  always  tender  to  her  beloved  flowers, 
and  her  nature  invariably  softened  when  in  their 
presence. 

By  and  by  Oscar,  the  groom,  stepped  through 
an  opening  in  the  hedge  and  touched  his  hat. 

"Has  my  niece  arrived?"  asked  his  mistress, 
sharply. 

"She's  on  the  way,  mum,"  the  man  answered, 
grinning.  "She  stopped  outside  the  grounds  to 
pick  wild  flowers,  an'  said  I  was  to  tell  you 
she'd  walk  the  rest  o'  the  way." 

"To  pick  wild  flowers?" 

"That's  what  she  said,  mum.  She's  that 
fond  of  'em  she  couldn't  resist  it.  I  was  to  come 

74 


AUNT  JANE'S   NIECES. 

an'  tell  you  this,  mum;  an'  she'll  follow  me  di- 
rectly." 

Aunt  Jane  stared  at  the  man  sternly,  and  he 
turned  toward  her  an  unmoved  countenance. 
Oscar  had  been  sent  to  the  station  to  meet  Louise 
Merrick,  and  drive  her  to  Elmhurst;  but  this 
strange  freak  on  the  part  of  her  guest  set  the  old 
woman  thinking  what  her  object  could  be.  Wild 
flowers  were  well  enough  in  their  way;  but 
those  adjoining  the  grounds  of  Elmhurst  were 
very  ordinary  and  unattractive,  and  Miss  Mer- 
rick's  aunt  was  expecting  her.  Perhaps — 

A  sudden  light  illumined  the  mystery. 

"See  here,  Oscar;  has  this  girl  been  question- 
ing you?" 

"She  asked  a  few  questions,  mum." 

"About  me?" 

"Some  of  'em,  if  I  remember  right,  mum, 
was  about  you." 

"And  you  told  her  I  was  fond  of  flowers?" 

"I  may  have  just  mentioned  that  you  liked 
'em,  mum." 

Aunt  Jane  gave  a  scornful  snort,  and  the 
man  responded  in  a  curious  way.  He  winked 

75 


AUNT  JANE'S   NIECES. 

slowly  and  laboriously,  still  retaining  the  solemn 
expression  on  his  face. 

"You  may  go,  Oscar.  Have  the  girl's  lug- 
gage placed  in  her  room." 

"Yes,  mum." 

He  touched  his  hat  and  then  withdrew, 
leaving  Jane  Merrick  with  a  frown  upon  her 
brow  that  was  not  caused  by  his  seeming  im- 
pertinence. 

Presently  a  slight  and  graceful  form  darted 
through  the  opening  in  the  hedge  and  ap- 
proached the  chair  wherein  Jane  Merrick  re- 
clined. 

"Oh,  my  dear,  dear  aunt!"  cried  Louise. 
"How  glad  I  am  to  see  you  at  last,  and  how 
good  of  you  to  let  me  come  here!"  and  she  bent 
over  and  kissed  the  stern,  unresponsive  face  with 
an  enthusiasm  delightful  to  behold. 

"This  is  Louise,  I  suppose,"  said  Aunt  Jane, 
stiffly.  "You  are  welcome  to  Elmhurst." 

"Tell  me  how  you  are,"  continued  the  girl, 
kneeling  beside  the  chair  and  taking  the  with- 
ered hands  gently  in  her  own.  "Do  you  suffer 
any?  And  are  you  getting  better,  dear  aunt, 

76 


AUNT  JANE'S   NIECES. 

in  this  beautiful  garden  with  the  birds  and  the 
sunshine?" 

"Get  up,"  said  the  elder  woman,  roughly. 
"You're  spoiling  your  gown." 

Louise  laughed  gaily. 

"Never  mind  the  gown,"  she  answered. 
"Tell  me  about  yourself.  I've  been  so  anxious 
since  your  last  letter." 

Aunt  Jane's  countenance  relaxed  a  trifle.  To 
speak  of  her  broken  health  always  gave  her  a 
sort  of  grim  satisfaction. 

"I'm  dying,  as  you  can  plainly  see,"  she  an- 
nounced. "My  days  are  numbered,  Louise.  If 
you  stay  long  enough  you  can  gather  wild 
flowers  for  my  coffin." 

Louise  flushed  a  trifle.  A  bunch  of  butter- 
cups and  forget-me-nots  was  fastened  to  her 
girdle,  and  she  had  placed  a  few  marguerites  in 
her  hair. 

"Don't  laugh  at  these  poor  things!"  she  said, 
deprecatingly.  "I'm  so  fond  of  flowers,  and  we 
find  none  growing  wild  in  the  cities,  you  know." 

Jane  Merrick  looked  at  her  reflectively. 

"How  old  are  you,  Louise,"  she  asked. 

.77 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

"Just  seventeen,  Aunt." 

"I  had  forgotten  you  are  so  old  as  that.  Let 
me  see;  Elizabeth  cannot  be  more  than  fifteen.'1 

"Elizabeth?" 

"Elizabeth  De  Graf,  your  cousin.  She  ar- 
rived at  Elmhurst  this  morning,  and  will  be  your 
companion  while  you  are  here." 

"That  is  nice,"  said  Louise. 

"I  hope  you  will  be  friends." 

"Why  not,  Aunt?  I  haven't  known  much  of 
my  relations  in  the  past,  you  know,  so  it  pleases 
me  to  find  an  aunt  and  a  cousin  at  the  same  time. 
I  am  sure  I  shall  love  you  both.  Let  me  fix 
your  pillow — you  do  not  seem  comfortable. 
There!  Isn't  that  better?"  patting  the  pillow 
deftly.  "I'm  afraid  you  have  needed  more  loving 
care  than  a  paid  attendant  can  give  you,"  glanc- 
ing at  old  Martha  Phibbs,  who  stood  some  paces 
away,  and  lowering  her  voice  that  she  might  not 
be  overheard.  "But  for  a  time,  at  least,  I  mean 
to  be  your  nurse,  and  look  after  your  wants. 
You  should  have  sent  for  me  before,  Aunt  Jane." 

"Don't  trouble  yourself;  Phibbs  knows  my 
ways,  and  does  all  that  is  required,"  said  the  in- 

78 


AUNT  JANE'S   NIECES. 

valid,  rather  testily.  "Run  away,  now,  Louise. 
The  housekeeper  will  show  you  to  your  room. 
It's  opposite  Elizabeth's,  and  you  will  do  well  to 
make  her  acquaintance  at  once.  I  shall  expect 
you  both  to  dine  with  me  at  seven." 

"Can't  I  stay  here  a  little  longer?"  pleaded 
Louise.  "We  haven't  spoken  two  words  to- 
gether, as  yet,  and  I'm  not  a  bit  tired  or  anxious 
to  go  to  my  room.  What  a  superb  oleander  this 
is!  Is  it  one  of  your  favorites,  Aunt  Jane?" 

"Run  away,"  repeated  the  woman.  "I  want 
to  be  alone." 

The  girl  sighed  and  kissed  her  again,  strok- 
ing the  gray  hair  softly  with  her  white  hand. 

"Very  well;  I'll  go,"  she  said.  "But  I  don't 
intend  to  be  treated  as  a  strange  guest,  dear 
Aunt,  for  that  would  drive  me  to  return  home  at 
once.  You  are  my  father's  eldest  sister,  and  I 
mean  to  make  you  love  me,  if  you  will  give  me 
the  least  chance  to  do  so." 

She  looked  around  her,  enquiringly,  and 
Aunt  Jane  pointed  a  bony  finger  at  the  porch. 

"That  is  the  way.     Phibbs  will  take  you  to 

79 


AUNT  JANE'S   NIECES. 

Misery,  the  housekeeper,  and  then  return  to  me. 
Remember,  I  dine  promptly  at  seven." 

"I  shall  count  the  minutes,"  said  Louise,  and 
with  a  laugh  and  a  graceful  gesture  of  adieu, 
turned  to  follow  Martha  into  the  house. 

Jane  Merrick  looked  after  her  with  a  puzzled 
expression  upon  her  face. 

"Were  she  in  the  least  sincere,"  she  mut- 
tered, "Louise  might  prove  a  very  pleasant  com- 
panion. But  she's  not  sincere ;  she's  coddling  me 
to  win  my  money,  and  if  I  don't  watch  out  she'll 
succeed.  The  girl's  a  born  diplomat,  and 
weighed  in  the  balance  against  sincerity,  diplo- 
macy will  often  tip  the  scales.  I  might  do  worse 
than  to  leave  Elmhurst  to  a  clever  woman.  But 
I  don't  know  Beth  yet.  I'll  wait  and  see  which 
girl  is  the  most  desirable,  and  give  them  each  an 
equal  chance." 


80 


CHAPTER  IX. 


COUSINS. 

"Come  in,"  called  Beth,  answering  a  knock 
at  her  door. 

Louise  entered,  and  with  a  little  cry  ran  for- 
ward and  caught  Beth  in  her  arms,  kissing  her 
in  greeting. 

"You  must  be  my  new  cousin — Cousin  Eliza- 
beth— and  I'm  awfully  glad  to  see  you  at  last!" 
she  said,  holding  the  younger  girl  a  little  away, 
that  she  might  examine  her  carefully. 

Beth  did  not  respond  to  the  caress.  She  eyed 
her  opponent  sharply,  for  she  knew  well  enough, 
even  in  that  first  moment,  that  they  were  en- 
gaged in  a  struggle  for  supremacy  in  Aunt  Jane's 
affections,  and  that  in  the  battles  to  come  no 
quarter  could  be  asked  or  expected. 

So  they  stood  at  arm's  length,  facing  one  an- 

81 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

other  and  secretly  forming  an  estimate  each  of 
the  other's  advantages  and  accomplishments. 

"She's  pretty  enough,  but  has  no  style  what- 
ever," was  Louise's  conclusion.  "Neither  has 
she  tact  nor  self-possession,  or  even  a  preposses- 
sing manner.  She  wears  her  new  gown  in  a 
dowdy  manner  and  one  can  read  her  face 
easily.  There's  little  danger  in  this  quarter,  I'm 
sure,  so  I  may  as  well  be  friends  with  the  poor 
child." 

As  for  Beth,  she  saw  at  once  that  her  "new 
cousin"  was  older  and  more  experienced  in  the 
ways  of  the  world,  and  therefore  liable  to  prove 
a  dangerous  antagonist.  Slender  and  graceful 
of  form,  attractive  of  feature  and  dainty  in  man- 
ner, Louise  must  be  credited  with  many  advant- 
ages; but  against  these  might  be  weighed  her 
evident  insincerity — the  volubility  and  gush 
that  are  so  often  affected  to  hide  one's  real  na- 
ture, and  which  so  shrewd  and  suspicious  a  wo- 
man as  Aunt  Jane  could  not  fail  to  readily  de- 
tect. Altogether,  Beth  was  not  greatly  disturbed 
by  her  cousin's  appearance,  and  suddenly  realiz- 

82 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

ing  that  they  had  been  staring  at  one  another 
rather  rudely,  she  said,  pleasantly  enough: 

"Won't  you  sit  down?" 

"Of  course;  we  must  get  acquainted,"  re- 
plied Louise,  gaily,  and  perched  herself  cross- 
legged  upon  the  window-seat,  surrounded  by  a 
mass  of  cushions. 

"I  didn't  know  you  were  here,  until  an  hour 
ago,"  she  continued.  "But  as  soon  as  Aunt  Jane 
told  me  I  ran  to  my  room,  unpacked  and  settled 
the  few  traps  I  brought  with  me,  and  here  I  am — 
prepared  for  a  good  long  chat  and  to  love  you 
just  as  dearly  as  you  will  let  me." 

"I  knew  you  were  coming,  but  not  until  this 
morning,"  answered  Beth,  slowly.  "Perhaps 
had  I  known,  I  would  not  have  accepted  our 
Aunt's  invitation." 

"Ah!  Why  not?"  enquired  the  other,  as  if 
in  wonder. 

Beth  hesitated. 

"Have  you .  known  Aunt  Jane  before  to- 
day?" she  asked. 

"No." 

"Nor  I.     The  letter  asking  me  to  visit  her 

83 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

was  the  first  I  have  ever  received  from  her. 
Even  my  mother,  her  own  sister,  does  not  cor- 
respond with  her.  I  was  brought  up  to  hate  her 
very  name,  as  a  selfish,  miserly  old  woman.  But, 
since  she  asked  me  to  visit  her,  we  judged  she 
had  softened  and  might  wish  to  become  friendly, 
and  so  I  accepted  the  invitation.  I  had  no  idea 
you  were  also  invited." 

"But  why  should  you  resent  my  being  here  ?" 
Louise  asked,  smiling.  "Surely,  two  girls  will 
have  a  better  time  in  this  lonely  old  place  than 
one  could  have  alone.  For  my  part,  I  am  de- 
lighted to  find  you  at  Elmhurst." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Beth.  "That's  a  nice  thing 
to  say,  but  I  doubt  if  it's  true.  Don't  let's  beat 
around  the  bush.  I  hate  hypocrisy,  and  if  we're 
going  to  be  friends  let's  be  honest  with  one  an- 
other from  the  start." 

"Well?"    queried   Louise,    evidently   amused. 

"It's  plain  to  me  that  Aunt  Jane  has  invited 
us  here  to  choose  which  one  of  us  shall  inherit 
her  money — and  Elmhurst.  She's  old  and  feeble, 
and  she  hasn't  any  other  relations." 

"Oh,  yes,  she  has"  corrected  Louise. 

84 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

"You  mean  Patricia  Doyle?" 

"Yes." 

"What  do  you  know  of  her?" 

"Nothing  at  all." 

"Where  does  she  live?" 

"I  haven't  the  faintest  idea." 

Louise  spoke  as  calmly  as  if  she  had  not 
mailed  Patricia's  defiant  letter  to  Aunt  Jane,  or 
discovered  her  cousin's  identity  in  the  little  hair- 
dresser from  Madame  Borne's  establishment. 

"Has  Aunt  Jane  mentioned  her?"  continued 
Beth. 

"Not  in  my  presence." 

"Then  we  may  conclude  she's  left  out  of  the 
arrangement,"  said  Beth,  calmly.  "And,  as  I 
said,  Aunt  Jane  is  likely  to  choose  one  of  us  to 
succeed  her  at  Elmhurst.  I  hoped  I  had  it  all 
my  own  way,  but  it's  evident  I  was  mistaken. 
You'll  fight  for  your  chance  and  fight  mighty 
hard!" 

Louise  laughed  merrily. 

"How  funny!"  she  exclaimed,  after  a  mo- 
ment during  during  which  Beth  frowned  at  her 

85 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

darkly.  "Why,  my  dear  cousin,  I  don't  want 
Aunt  Jane's  money." 

"You  don't?" 

"Not  a  penny  of  it;  nor  Elmhurst;  nor  any- 
thing you  can  possibly  lay  claim  to,  my  dear. 
My  mother  and  I  are  amply  provided  for,  and  I 
am  only  here  to  find  rest  from -my  social  duties 
and  to  get  acquainted  with  my  dead  father's  sis- 
ter. That  is  all." 

"Oh !"  said  Beth,  lying  back  in  her  chair  with 
a  sigh  of  relief. 

"So  it  was  really  a  splendid  idea  of  yours  to 
be  frank  with  me  at  our  first  meeting,"  continued 
Louise,  cheerfully;  "for  it  has  led  to  your  learn- 
ing the  truth,  and  I  am  sure  you  will  never  again 
grieve  me  by  suggesting  that  I  wish  to  supplant 
you  in  Aunt  Jane's  favor.  Now  tell  me  something 
about  yourself  and  your  people.  Are  you  poor?" 

"Poor  as  poverty,"  said  Beth,  gloomily. 
"My  father  teaches  music,  and  mother  scolds 
him  continually  for  not  being  able  to  earn  enough 
money  to  keep  out  of  debt." 

"Hasn't  Aunt  Jane  helped  you?" 

"We've  never  seen  a  cent  of  her  money,  al- 

86 


AUNT  JANE'S   NIECES. 

though  father  has  tried  at  times  to  borrow  enough 
to  help  him  out  of  his  difficulties." 

"That's  strange.  She  seems  like  such  a  dear 
kindly  old  lady,"  said  Louise,  musingly. 

"I  think  she's  horrid,"  answered  Beth,  an- 
grily; "but  I  mustn't  let  her  know  it.  I  even 
kissed  her,  when  she  asked  me  to,  and  it  sent  a 
shiver  all  down  my  back." 

Louise  laughed  with  genuine  amusement. 

"You  must  dissemble,  Cousin  Elizabeth,"  she 
advised,  "and  teach  our  aunt  to  love  you.  For 
my  part,  I  am  fond  of  everyone,  and  it  delights 
me  to  fuss  around  invalids  and  assist  them.  I 
ought  to  have  been  a  trained  nurse,  you  know; 
but  of  course  there's  no  necessity  of  my  earn- 
ing a  living." 

"I  suppose  not,"  said  Beth.  Then,  after  a 
thoughtful  silence,  she  resumed  abruptly; 
"What's  to  prevent  Aunt  Jane  leaving  you  her 
property,  even  if  you  are  rich,  and  don't  need  it? 
You  say  you  like  to  care  for  invalids,  and  I  don't. 
Suppose  Aunt  Jane  prefers  you  to  me,  and  wills 
you  all  her  money?" 

"Why,  that  would  be  beyond  my  power  to 

87 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

prevent,"  answered  Louise,  with  a  little  yawn. 
Beth's  face  grew  hard  again. 
"You're  deceiving  me,"  she  declared,  angrily. 
"Your're   trying   to   make   me   think   you    don't 
want  Elmhurst,  when  you're  as  anxious  to  get 
it  as  I  am." 

"My  dear  Elizabeth — by  the  way,  that's  an 
awfully  long  name;  what  do  they  call  you,  Liz- 
zie, or  Bessie,  or — " 

"They  call  me  Beth,"  sullenly. 
"Then,  my  dear  Beth,  let  me  beg  you  not  to 
borrow  trouble,  or  to  doubt  one  who  wishes  to 
be  your  friend.  Elmhurst  would  be  a  perfect 
bore  to  me.  I  wouldn't  know  what  to  do  with 
it.  I  couldn't  live  in  this  out-of-the-way  corner 
of  the  world,  you  know." 

"But  suppose  she  leaves  it  to  you?"  persisted 
Beth.     "You  wouldn't  refuse  it,  I  imagine." 
Louise  seemed  to  meditate. 
"Cousin,"  she  said,  at  length,   "I'll  make  a 
bargain  with  you.    I  can't  refuse  to  love  and  pet 
Aunt  Jane,  just  because  she  has  money  and  my 
sweet  cousin  Beth  is  anxious  to  inherit  it.     But 
I'll  not  interfere  in  any  way  with  your  chances, 

88 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

and  I'll  promise  to  sing  your  praises  to  our  aunt 
persistently.  Furthermore,  in  case  she  selects 
me  as  her  heir,  I  will  agree  to  transfer  half  of 
the  estate  to  you — the  half  that  consists  of  Elm- 
hurst" 

"Is  there  much  more?"  asked  Beth. 

"I  haven't  any  list  of  Aunt  Jane's  possessions, 
so  I  don't  know.  But  you  shall  have  Elmhurst, 
if  I  get  it,  because  the  place  would  be  of  no  use 
to  me." 

"It's  a  magnificent  estate,"  said  Beth,  look- 
ing at  her  cousin  doubtfully. 

"It  shall  be  yours,  dear,  whatever  Aunt  Jane 
decides.  See,  this  is  a  compact,  and  I'll  seal  it 
with  a  kiss." 

She  sprang  up  and,  kneeling  beside  Beth, 
kissed  her  fervently. 

"Now  shall  we  be  friends?"  she  asked,  light- 
ly. "Now  will  you  abandon  all  those  naughty 
suspicions  and  let  me  love  you?" 

Beth  hesitated.  The  suggestion  seemed  pre- 
posterous. Such  generosity  savored  of  play  act- 
ing, and  Louise's  manner  was  too  airy  to  be  gen- 
uine. Somehow  she  felt  that  she  was  being 

89 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

laughed  at  by  this  slender,  graceful  girl,  who  was 
scarcely  older  than  herself;  but  she  was  too  un- 
sophisticated to  know  how  to  resent  it.  Louise 
insisted  upon  warding  off  her  enmity,  or  at  least 
establishing  a  truce,  and  Beth,  however  suspic- 
ious and  ungracious,  could  find  no  way  of  reject- 
ing the  overtures. 

"Were  I  in  your  place,"  she  said,  "I  would 
never  promise  to  give  up  a  penny  of  the  inheri- 
tance. If  I  win  it,  I  shall  keep  it  all." 

"To  be  sure.    I  should  want  you  to,  my  dear." 

"Then,  since  we  have  no  cause  to  quarrel, 
we  may  as  well  become  friends,"  continued  Beth, 
her  features  relaxing  a  little  their  set  expression. 

Louise  laughed  again,  ignoring  the  other's 
brusqueness,  and  was  soon  chatting  away  pleas- 
antly upon  other  subjects  and  striving  to  draw 
Beth  out  of  her  natural  reserve. 

The  younger  girl  had  no  power  to  resist  such 
fascinations.  Louise  knew  the  big  world,  and 
talked  of  it  with  charming  naivete,  and  Beth  lis- 
tened rapturously.  Such  a  girl  friend  it  had 
never  been  her  privilege  to  have  before,  and  when 

90 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

her  suspicions  were  forgotten  she  became  fairly 
responsive,  and  brightened  wonderfully. 

They  dressed  in  time  for  dinner,  and  met 
Aunt  Jane  and  Silas  Watson,  the  lawyer,  in  the 
great  drawing-room.  The  old  gentleman  was 
very  attentive  and  courteous  during  the  stately 
dinner,  and  did  much  to  relieve  the  girls'  embar- 
rassment. Louise,  indeed,  seemed  quite  at  home 
in  her  new  surroundings,  and  chatted  most  viva- 
ciously during  the  meal;  but  Aunt  Jane  was 
strangely  silent,  and  Beth  had  little  to  say  and 
seemed  awkward  and  ill  at  ease. 

•  The  old  lady  retired  to  her  own  room  shortly 
after  dinner,  and  presently  sent  a  servant  to  re- 
quest Mr.  Watson  to  join  her. 

"Silas,"  she  said,  when  he  entered,  "what  do 
you  think  of  my  nieces  ?" 

"They  are  very  charming  girls,"  he  answered, 
"although  they  are  at  an  age  when  few  girls  show 
to  good  advantage.  Why  did  you  not  invite 
Kenneth  to  dinner,  Jane?" 

"The  boy?" 

"Yes.     They  would  be  more  at  ease  in  the 

91 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

society  of  a  young  gentleman  more  nearly  their 
own  age." 

"Kenneth  is  a  bear.  He  is  constantly  say- 
ing disagreeable  things.  In  other  words,  he  is 
not  gentlemanly,  and  the  girls  shall  have  nothing 
to  do  with  him." 

"Very  well,"  said  the  lawyer,  quietly. 

"Which  of  my  nieces  do  you  prefer?"  asked 
the  old  lady,  after  a  pause. 

"I  cannot  say,  on  so  short  an  acquaintance," 
he  answered,  with  gravity.  "Which  do  you  pre- 
fer, Jane?" 

"They  are  equally  unsatisfactory,"  she  an- 
swered. "I  cannot  imagine  Elmhurst  belonging 
to  either,  Silas."  Then  she  added,  with  an 
abrupt  change  of  manner:  "You  must  go  to 
New  York  for  me,  at  once." 

"Tonight?" 

"No;  tomorrow  morning.  I  must  see  that 
other  niece — the  one  who  defies  me  and  refuses 
to  answer  my  second  letter." 

"Patricia  Doyle?" 

"Yes.  Find  her  and  argue  with  her.  Tell 
her  I  am  a  crabbed  old  woman  with  a  whim  to 

92 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

know  her,  and  that  I  shall  not  die  happy  unless 
sne  comes  to  Elmhurst.  Bribe  her,  threaten  her 
— kidnap  her  if  necessary,  Silas;  but  get  her  to 
Elmhurst  as  quickly  as  possible." 

"I'll  do  my  best,  Jane.  But  why  are  you  so 
anxious  ?" 

"My  time  is  drawing  near,  old  friend,"  she 
replied,  less  harshly  than  usual,  "and  this  matter 
of  my  will  lies  heavily  on  my  conscience.  What 
if  I  should  die  tonight?" 

He  did  not  answer. 

"There  would  be  a  dozen  heirs  to  fight  for 
my  money,  and  dear  old  Elmhurst  would  be  sold 
to  strangers,"  she  resumed,  with  bitterness.  "But 
I  don't  mean  to  cross  over  just  yet,  Silas,  even  if 
one  limb  is  dead  already.  I  shall  hang  on  until 
I  get  this  matter  settled,  and  I  can't  settle  it 
properly  without  seeing  all  three  of  my  nieces. 
One  of  these  is  too  hard,  and  the  other  too  soft. 
I'll  see  what  Patricia  is  like." 

"She  may  prove  even  more  undesirable,"  said 
the  lawyer. 

"In  that  case,  I'll  pack  her  back  again  and 
choose  between  these  two.  But  you  must  fetch 

93 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

her,  Silas,  that  I  may  know  just  what  I  am  doing. 
And  you  must  fetch  her  at  once!" 

"I'll  do  the  best  I  can,  Jane,"  repeated  the  old 
lawyer. 


94 


CHAPTER  X. 


THE  MAN  WITH  THE  BUNDLE. 

In  the  harness-room  above  the  stable  sat  Dun- 
can Muir,  the  coachman  and  most  important  ser- 
vant, with  the  exception  of  the  head  gardener, 
in  Miss  Merrick's  establishment.  Duncan,  bald- 
headed  but  with  white  and  bushy  side-whiskers, 
was  engaged  in  the  serious  business  of  oiling  and 
polishing  the  state  harness,  which  had  not  been 
used  for  many  months  past.  But  that  did  not 
matter.  Thursday  was  the  day  for  oiling  the 
harness,  and  so  on  Thursday  he  performed  the 
task,  never  daring  to  entrust  a  work  so  import- 
ant to  a  subordinate. 

In  one  corner  of  the  little  room  Kenneth 
Forbes  squatted  upon  a  bench,  with  an  empty 
pine  box  held  carelessly  in  his  lap.  While  Dun- 

95 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

can  worked  the  boy  was  busy  with  his  pencil, 
but  neither  had  spoken  for  at  least  a  half  hour. 

Finally  the  aged  coachman,  without  looking 
up,  enquired: 

"What  do  ye  think  o'  'em,  Kenneth  lad?" 

"Think  o'  whom,  Don?" 

"The  young  leddies." 

"What  young  ladies?" 

"Miss  Jane's  nieces,  as  Oscar  brought  from 
the  station  yesterday." 

The  boy  looked  astonished,  and  leaned  over 
tre  box  in  his  lap  eagerly. 

"T~11  me,  Don,"  he  said.  "I  was  away  with 
my  gun  all  yesterday,  and  heard  nothing  of  it." 

"Why,  it  seems  Miss  Jane's  invited  'em  to 
make  her  a  visit." 

"But  not  yet,  Don!     Not  so  soon." 

"Na'theless,  they're  here." 

"How  many,  Don?" 

"Two,  lad.  A  bonny  young  thing  came  on  the 
morning  train,  an'  a  nice,  wide-awake  one  by 
the  two  o'clock." 

"Girls?"  with  an  accent  of  horror. 

96 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

"Young  females,  anyhow,"  said  Donald,  pol- 
ishing a  buckle  briskly. 

The  boy  glared  at  him  fixedly. 

"Will  they  be  running  about  the  place,  Don  ?" 

"Most  likely.  'Twould  be  a  shame  to  shut 
them  up  with  the  poor  missus  this  glad  weather. 
But  why  not?  They'll  be  company  for  ye,  Ken- 
neth lad." 

"How  long  will  they  stay?" 

"Mebbe  for  aye.  Oscar  forbys  one  or  the 
ither  o'  'em  will  own  the  place  when  Miss  Jane 
gi'es  up  the  ghost." 

The  boy  sat  silent  a  moment,  thinking  upon 
this  speech.  Then,  with  a  cry  that  was  almost  a 
scream,  he  dashed  the  box  upon  the  floor  and 
flew  out  the  door  as  if  crazed,  and  Donald  paused 
to  listen  to  his  footsteps  clattering  down  the 
stairs. 

Then  the  old  man  groaned  dismally,  shaking 
his  side-whiskers  with  a  negative  expression  that 
might  have  conveyed  worlds  of  meaning  to  one 
able  to  interpret  it.  But  his  eye  fell  upon  the 
pine  box,  which  had  rolled  to  his  feet,  and  he 
stooped  to  pick  it  up.  Upon  the  smoothly  planed 

97 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

side  was  his  own  picture,  most  deftly  drawn, 
showing  him  engaged  in  polishing  the  harness. 
Every  strap  and  buckle 'was  depicted  with  rare 
ridelity;  there  was  no  doubt  at  all  of  the  sponge 
and  bottle  on  the  stool  beside  him,  or  the  cloth 
in  his  hand.  Even  his  bow  spectacles  rested  upon 
the  bridge  of  his  nose  at  exactly  the  right  angle, 
and  his  under  lip  protruded  just  as  it  had  done 
since  he  was  a  lad. 

Donald  was  not  only  deeply  impressed  by 
such  an  exhibition  of  art;  he  was  highly  grati- 
fied at  being  pictured,  and  full  of  wonder  that 
the  boy  could  do  such  a  thing :  "wi'  a  wee  pen- 
cil an'  a  bit  o'  board!"  He  turned  the  box  this 
way  and  that  to  admire  the  sketch,  and  finally 
arose  and  brought  a  hatchet,  with  which  he  care- 
fully pried  the  board  away  from  the  box.  Then 
he  carried  his  treasure  to  a  cupboard,  where  he 
hid  it  safely  behind  a  row  of  tall  bottles. 

Meantime  Kenneth  had  reached  the  stable, 
thrown  a  bridle  over  the  head  of  a  fine  sorrel 
mare,  and  scorning  to  use  a  saddle  leaped  upon 
her  back  and  dashed  down  the  lane  and  out  at 
the  rear  gate  upon  the  old  turnpike  road. 

98 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

His  head  was  whirling  with  amazement,  his 
heart  full  of  indignation.  Girls!  Girls  at  Elm- 
hurst — nieces  and  guests  of  the  fierce  old  woman 
he  so  bitterly  hated!  Then,  indeed,  his  days  of 
peace  and  quiet  were  ended.  These  dreadful 
creatures  would  prowl  around  everywhere;  they 
might  even  penetrate  the  shrubbery  to  the  foot 
of  the  stairs  leading  to  his  own  retired  room; 
they  would  destroy  his  happiness  and  drive  him 
mad. 

For  this  moody,  silent  youth  had  been  strange- 
ly happy  in  his  life  at  Elmhurst,  despite  the  neg- 
lect of  the  grim  old  woman  who  was  its  mis- 
tress and  the  fact  that  no  one  aside  from  Lawyer 
Watson  seemed  to  care  whether  he  lived  or  died. 

Perhaps  Donald  did.  Good  old  Don  was 
friendly  and  seldom  bothered  him  by  talking. 
Perhaps  old  Misery  liked  him  a  bit,  also.  But 
these  were  only  servants,  and  almost  as  help- 
less and  dependent  as  himself. 

Still,  he  had  been  happy.  He  began  to  real- 
ize it,  now  that  these  awful  girls  had  come  to 
disturb  his  peace.  The  thought  filled  him  with 
grief  and  rebellion  and  resentment;  yet  there 

99 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

was  nothing  he  could  do  to  alter  the  fact  that 
Donald's  "young  females"  were  already  here, 
and  prepared,  doubtless,  to  stay. 

The  sorrel  was  dashing  down  the  road  at  a 
great  pace,  but  the  boy  clung  firmly  to  his  seat 
and  gloried  in  the  breeze  that  fanned  his  hot 
cheeks.  Away  and  away  he  raced  until  he 
reached  the  crossroads,  miles  away,  and  down 
this  he  turned  and  galloped  as  recklessly  as  be- 
fore. The  sun  was  hot,  today,  and  the  sorrel's 
flanks  begun  to  steam  and  show  flecks  of  white 
upon  their  glossy  surface.  He  turned  again  to 
the  left,  entering  upon  a  broad  highway  that 
would  lead  him  straight  home  at  last ;  but  he  had 
almost  reached  the  little  village  of  Elmwood, 
\vLich  was  the  railway  station,  before  he  realized 
his  cruelty  to  the  splendid  mare  he  bestrode.  Then 
indeed,  he  fell  to  a  walk,  patting  Nora's  neck  af- 
fectionately and  begging  her  to  forgive  him  for 
his  thoughtlessness.  The  mare  tossed  her  head 
in  derision.  However  she  might  sweat  and  pant, 
she  liked  the  glorious  pace  even  better  than  her 
rider. 

Through  the  village  he  paced  moodily,   the 

100 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

bridle  dangling  loosely  on  the  mare's  neck.  The 
people  paused  to  look  at  him  curiously,  but  he 
had  neither  word  nor  look  for  any. 

He  did  not  know  one  of  them  by  name,  and 
cared  little  how  much  they  might  speculate  upon 
his  peculiar  position  at  "the  big  house." 

Then,  riding  slowly  up  the  hedge  bordered 
road,  his  troubles  once  more  assailed  him,  and 
he  wondered  if  there  was  not  some  spot  upon  the 
broad  earth  to  which  he  could  fly  for  retirement 
until  the  girls  had  left  Elmhurst  for  good. 

Nora  shied,  and  he  looked  up  to  discover  that 
he  had  nearly  run  down  a  pedestrian — a  stout 
little  man  with  a  bundle  under  his  arm,  who  held 
up  one  hand  as  if  to  arrest  him. 

Involuntarily  he  drew  rein,  and  stopped  be- 
side the  traveler  with  a  look  of  inquiry. 

"Sorry  to  trouble  you,  sir,"  remarked  the  lit- 
tle man,  in  a  cheery  voice,  "but  I  ain't  just  cer- 
tain about  my  way." 

"Where  do  you  want  to  go?"  asked  the  boy. 

"To  Jane  Merrick's  place.  They  call  it  Elm- 
hurst,  I  guess." 

"It's  straight  ahead,"   said   Kenneth,   as  the 

101 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

mare  walked  on.  His  questioner  also  started  and 
paced  beside  him. 

"Far  from  here?" 

"A  mile,  perhaps." 

"They  said  it  was  three  from  the  village,  but 
I  guess  I've  come  a  dozen  a'ready." 

The  boy  did  not  reply  to  this.  There  was 
nothing  offensive  in  the  man's  manner.  He  spoke 
with  an  easy  familiarity  that  made  it  difficult  not 
to  respond  with  equal  frank  cordiality,  and  there 
was  a  shrewd  expression  upon  his  wrinkled, 
smooth-shaven  face  that  stamped  him  a  man  who 
had  seen  life  in  many  of  its  phases. 

Kenneth,  who  resented  the  companionship  of 
most  people,  seemed  attracted  by  the  man,  and 
hesitated  to  gallop  on  and  leave  him. 

"Know  Jane  Merrick?"  asked  the  stranger. 

The  boy  nodded. 

"Like  her?" 

"I  hate  her,"  he  said,  savagely. 

The  man  laughed,  a  bit  uneasily. 

"Then  it's  the  same  Jane  as  ever,"  he  respond- 
ed, with  a  shake  of  his  grizzled  head.  "Do  yon 
know,  I  sort  o'  hoped  she'd  reformed,  and  I'd 

1 02 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

be  glad  to  see  her  again.  They  tell  me  she's  got 
money." 

The  boy  looked  at  him  in  surprise. 

"She  owns  Elmhurst,  and  has  mortgages  on 
a  dozen  farms  around  here,  and  property  in  New 
York,  and  thousands  of  dollars  in  the  bank,"  he 
said.  "Aunt  Jane's  rich." 

"Aunt  Jane?"  echoed  the  man,  quickly. 
"What's  your  name,  lad?" 

"Kenneth  Forbes." 

A  shake  of  the  head. 

"Don't  recollect  any  Forbeses  in  the  family." 

"She  isn't  really  my  aunt,"  said  the  boy,  "and 
she  doesn't  treat  me  as  an  aunt,  either;  but  she's 
my  guardian,  and  I've  always  called  her  Aunt, 
rather  than  say  Miss  Merrick." 

"She's  never  married,  has  she?" 

"No.  She  was  engaged  to  my  Uncle  Tom, 
who  owned  Elmhurst.  He  was  killed  in  a  rail- 
way accident,  and  then  it  was  found  he'd  left 
her  all  he  had." 

"I  see." 

"So,  when  my  parents  died,  Aunt  Jane  took 

103 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

me  for  Uncle  Tom's  sake,  and  keeps  me  out  of 
charity." 

"I  see."    Quite  soberly,  this  time. 

The  boy  slid  off  the  mare  and  walked  be- 
side the  little  man,  holding  the  bridle  over  his 
arm.  They  did  not  speak  again  for  some  mo- 
ments. 

Finally  the  stranger  asked: 

"Are  Jane's  sisters  living — Julia  and  Violet?" 

"I  don't  know.  But  there  are  two  of  her 
nieces  at  Elmhurst." 

"Ha!   Who  are  they?" 

"Girls,"  with  bitterness.  "I  haven't  seen 
them." 

The  stranger  whistled. 

"Don't  like  girls,  I  take  it?" 

"No;  I  hate  them." 

Another  long  pause.  Then  the  boy  suddenly 
turned  questioner. 

"You  know  Aunt — Miss  Merrick,  sir?" 

"I  used  to,  when  we  were  both  younger." 

"Any  relation,  sir?" 

"Just  a  brother,  that's  all." 

Kenneth  stopped  short,  and  the  mare  stopped, 

104 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

and  the  little  man,  with  a  whimsical  smile  at  the 
boy's  astonishment,  also  stopped. 

"I  didn't  know  she  had  a  brother,  sir — that  is, 
living." 

"She  had  two;  but  Will's  dead,  years  ago, 
I'm  told.  I'm  the  other." 

"John  Merrick?" 

"That's  me.  I  went  west  a  long  time  ago; 
before  you  were  born,  I  guess.  We  don't  get 
much  news  on  the  coast,  so  I  sort  of  lost  track 
of  the  folks  back  east,  and  I  reckon  they  lost 
track  of  me,  for  the  same  reason." 

"You  were  the  tinsmith?" 

"The  same.  Bad  pennies  always  return,  they 
say.  I've  come  back  to  look  up  the  family  and 
find  how  many  are  left.  Curious  sort  of  a  job, 
isn't  it." 

"I  don't  know.  Perhaps  it's  natural,"  replied 
the  boy,  reflectively.  "But  I'm  sorry  you  came 
to  Aunt  Jane  first." 

"Why?" 

"She's  in  bad  health — quite  ill,  you  know — 
and  her  temper's  dreadful.  Perhaps  she — she — " 

"I  know.     But  I  haven't  seen  her  in  years; 

105 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

and,  after  all,  she's  my  sister.  And  back  at  the 
old  home,  where  I  went  first,  no  one  knew  any- 
thing about  what  had  become  of  the  family  ex- 
cept Jane.  They  kept  track  of  her  because  she 
suddenly  became  rich,  and  a  great  lady,  and  that 
was  a  surprising  thing  to  happen  to  a  Merrick. 
We've  always  been  a  poor  lot,  you  know." 

"The  boy  glanced  at  the  bundle,  pityingly, 
and  the  little  man  caught  the  look  and  smiled  his 
sweet,  cheery  smile. 

"My  valise  was  too  heavy  to  carry,"  he  said; 
"so  I  wrapped  up  a  few  things  in  case  Jane 
wanted  me  to  stay  over  night.  And  that's  why 
I  didn't  get  a  horse  at  the  livery,  you  know. 
Somebody'd  have  to  take  it  back  again." 

"I'm  sure  she'll  ask  you  to  stay,  sir.  And  if 
she  doesn't,  you  come  out  to  the  stable  and  let 
me  know,  and  I'll  drive  you  to  town  again.  Don- 
ald— that's  the  coachman — is  my  friend,  and  he'll 
let  me  have  the  horse  if  I  ask  him." 

"Thank  you,  lad,"  returned  the  man,  grate- 
fully. "I  thought  a  little  exercise  would  do  me 
good,  but  this  three  miles  has  seemed  like  thirty 
to  me!" 

1 06 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

"We're  here  at  last,"  said  the  boy,  turning 
into  the  drive-way.  "Seeing  that  you're  her 
brother,  sir,  I  advise  you  to  go  right  up  to  the 
front  door  and  ring  the  bell." 

"I  will,"  said  the  man. 

"I  always  go  around  the  back  way,  myself." 

"I  see." 

The  boy  turned  away,  but  in  a  moment  halted 
again.  His  interest  in  Miss  Jane's  brother  John 
was  extraordinary. 

"Another  thing,"  he  said,  hesitating. 

"Well?" 

"You'd  better  not  say  you  met  me,  you  know. 
It  wouldn't  be  a  good  introduction.  She  hates 
me  as  much  as  I  hate  her." 

"Very  good,  my  lad.    I'll  keep  mum." 

The  boy  nodded,  and  turned  away  to  lead 
Nora  to  the  stable.  The  man  looked  after  him 
a  moment,  and  shook  his  head,  sadly. 

"Poor  boy !"  he  whispered. 

Then  he  walked  up  to  the  front  door  and  rang 
the  bell. 


107 


CHAPTER  XL 


THE    MAD   GARDENER. 

"This  seems  to  be  a  lazy  place,"  said  Louise, 
as  she  stood  in  the  doorway  of  Beth's  room  to 
bid  her  good  night.  "I  shall  sleep  until  late  in  the 
morning,  for  I  don't  believe  Aunt  Jane  will  be 
on  exhibition  before  noon." 

"At  home  I  always  get  up  at  six  o'clock," 
answered  Beth. 

"Six  o'clock!    Good  gracious!     What  for?" 

"To  study  my  lessons  and  help  get  the  break- 
fast." 

"Don't  you  keep  a  maid?" 

"No,"  said  Beth,  rather  surlily;  "we  have 
hard  work  to  keep  ourselves." 

"But  you  must  be  nearly  through  with  school 
by  this  time.  I  finished  my  education  ages  ago." 

"Did  you  graduate?"  asked  Beth. 

1 08 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

"No;  it  wasn't  worth  while,"  declared  Louise, 
complacently.  "I'm  sure  I  know  as  much  as  most 
girls  do,  and  there  are  more  useful  lessons  to  be 
learned  from  real  life  than  from  books." 

"Good  night,"  said  Beth. 

"Good  night,"  answered  the  older  girl,  and 
shut  the  door  behind  her. 

Beth  sat  for  a  time  moodily  thinking.  She 
did  not  like  the  way  in  which  her  cousin  assumed 
superiority  over  her.  The  difference  in  their  ages 
did  not  account  for  the  greater  worldly  wisdom 
Louise  had  acquired,  and  in  much  that  she  said 
and  did  Beth  recognized  a  shrewdness  and  ex- 
perience that  made  her  feel  humbled  and,  in  a 
way,  inferior  to  her  cousin.  Nor  did  she  trust 
the  friendship  Louise  expressed  for  her. 

Somehow,  nothing  that  the  girl  said  seemed 
to  ring  true,  and  Beth  already,  in  her  mind, 
accused  her  of  treachery  and  insincerity. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  however,  she  failed  to 
understand  her  cousin.  Louise  really  loved  to 
be  nice  to  people,  and  to  say  nice  things.  It  is 
true  she  schemed  and  intrigued  to  advance  her 
personal  welfare  and  position  in  life;  but  even 

109 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

her  schemes  were  undertaken  lightly  and  care- 
lessly, and  if  they  failed  the  girl  would  be  the 
first  to  laugh  at  her  disappointment  and  try  to 
mend  her  fortunes.  If  others  stood  in  her  way 
she  might  not  consider  them  at  all ;  if  she  pledged 
her  word,  it  might  not  always  be  profitable  to 
keep  it ;  but  she  liked  to  be  on  pleasant  terms  with 
everyone,  and  would  be  amiable  to  the  last,  no 
matter  what  happened.  Comedy  was  her  forte, 
rather  than  tragedy.  If  tragedy  entered  her  life 
she  would  probably  turn  it  into  ridicule.  Wholly 
without  care,  whimsical  and  generous  to  a  de- 
gree, if  it  suited  her  mood,  Louise  Merrick  pos- 
sessed a  nature  capable  of  great  things,  either  for 
good  or  ill. 

It  was  no  wonder  her  unsophisticated  country 
cousin  failed  to  comprehend  her,  although  Beth's 
intuition  was  not  greatly  at  fault. 

Six  o'clock  found  Beth  wide  awake,  as  usual ; 
so  she  quietly  dressed  and,  taking  her  book  un- 
der her  arm,  started  to  make  her  way  into  the 
gardens.  Despite  Louise's  cynicism  she  had  no 
intention  of  abandoning  her  studies.  She  had 
decided  to  fit  herself  for  a  teacher  before  Aunt 

no 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

Jane's  invitation  had  come  to  her,  and  this  am- 
bition would  render  it  necessary  for  her  to  study 
hard  during  vacations. 

If  she  became  an  heiress  she  would  not  need 
to  teach,  but  she  was  not  at  all  confident  of  her 
prospects,  and  the  girl's  practical  nature  prompted 
her  to  carry  out  her  plans  until  she  was  sure  of 
the  future. 

In  the  hall  she  met  Phibbs,  shuffling  along  as 
if  in  pain. 

"Good  morning,  miss,"  said  the  old  servant. 

Beth  looked  at  her  thoughtfully.  This  was 
Aunt  Jane's  special  and  confidential  attendant. 

"Do  your  feet  hurt  you?"  she  asked. 

"Yes,  miss;  in  the  mornin'  they's  awful  bad. 
It's  being  on  'em  all  the  day,  'tendin'  to  Miss 
Jane,  you  know.  But  after  a  time  I  gets  more 
used  to  the  pain,  and  don't  feel  it.  The  mornin's 
always  the  worst." 

She  was  passing  on,  but  Beth  stopped  her. 

"Come  into  my  room,"  she  said,  and  led  the 
way. 

Martha  Phibbs  followed  reluctantly.  Miss 
Jane  might  already  be  awake  and  demanding  her 

in 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

services,  and  she  could  not  imagine  what  the 
young  lady  wanted  her  for. 

But  she  entered  the  room,  and  Beth  went  to 
a  box  and  brought  out  a  bottle  of  lotion. 

"Mother  has  the  same  trouble  that  you  com- 
plain of,"  she  said,  practically,  "and  here  is  a 
remedy  that  always  gives  her  relief.  I  brought 
it  with  me  in  case  I  should  take  long  tramps,  and 

get  sore  feet." 

She  gently  pushed  the  old  woman  into  a  chair, 
and  then,  to  Phibbs'  utter  amazement,  knelt  down 
and  unfastened  her  shoes  and  drew  off  her  stock- 
ings. A  moment  later  she  was  rubbing  the  lotion 
upon  the  poor  creature's  swollen  feet,  paying  no 
attention  to  Martha's  horrified  protests. 

"There.  Now  they're  sure  to  feel  better," 
said  Beth,  pulling  the  worn  and  darned  stockings 
upon  the  woman's  feet  again.  "And  you  must 
take  this  bottle  to  your  room,  and  use  it  every 
night  and  morning." 

"Bless  your  dear  heart!"  cried  Phibbs,  while 
tears  of  gratitude  stood  in  her  faded  eyes.  "I'm 
sure  I  feel  twenty  years  younger,  a'ready.  But 

112 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

you  shouldn't  'a'  done  it,  miss;  indeed  you 
shouldn't" 

"I'm  glad  to  help  you,"  said  Beth,  rinsing 
her  hands  at  the  wash  stand  and  drying  them 
upon  a  towel.  "It  would  be  cruel  to  let  you  suf- 
fer when  I  can  ease  your  pain." 

"But  what  would  Miss  Jane  say?"  wailed 
old  Martha,  throwing  up  her  hands  in  dismay. 

"She'll  never  know  a  thing  about  it.  It's 
our  secret,  Martha,  and  I'm  sure  if  I  ever  need 
a  friend  you'll  do  as  much  for  me." 

"I'll  do  anything  for  you,  Miss  Elizabeth," 
was  the  reply,  as  the  woman  took  the  bottle  of 
lotion  and  departed. 

Beth  smiled. 

"That  was  not  a  bad  thought,"  she  said  to 
herself,  again  starting  for  the  gardens.  "I  have 
made  a  firm  friend  and  done  a  kindly  action  at  the 
same  time — and  all  while  Cousin  Louise  is  fast 
asleep." 

The  housekeeper  let  her  out  at  the  side  door, 
after  Beth  had  pressed  her  hand  and  kissed  her 
good  morning. 

"You're  looking  quite  bonny,  my  dear,"  said 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES, 
the  old  woman.     "Do  you  feel  at  home,  at  all,  in 

this  strange  place?" 

"Not  quite,  as  yet,"  answered  Beth.  "But 
I  know  I  have  one  good  friend  here,  and  that 
comforts  me." 

She  found  a  path  between  high  hedges,  that 
wandered  away  through  the  grounds,  and  along 
this  she  strolled  until  she  reached  a  rose  arbor 
with  a  comfortable  bench. 

Here  she  seated  herself,  looking  around  her 
curiously.  The  place  seemed  little  frequented, 
but  was  kept  with  scrupulous  care.  Even  at  this 
hour,  a  little  way  off  could  be  heard  the  "click- 
click!"  of  hedge-shears,  and  Beth  noted  how 
neatly  the  paths  were  swept,  and  how  carefully 
every  rose  on  the  arbor  was  protected. 

Elmhurst  was  a  beautiful  place.  Beth  sighed 
as  she  wondered  if  it  would  ever  be  hers.  Then 
she  opened  her  book  and  began  to  work. 

During  the  next  hour  the  click  of  the  hedge- 
shears  drew  nearer,  but  the  girl  did  not  notice 
this.  Tn  another  half  hour  James  himself  came 
into  view,  intent  upon  his  monotonous  task.  Grad- 
ually the  motionless  form  of  the  girl  and  the  plod- 

114 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

ding  figure  of  the  gardener  drew  together,  until 
he  stood  but  two  yards  distant.  Then  he  paused, 
looked  toward  the  arbor,  and  uttered  an  excla- 
mation. 

Beth  looked  up. 

"Good  morning,"  she  said,  pleasantly. 

James  stared  at  her,  but  made  no  reply  save 
a  slight  inclination  of  his  head. 

"Am  I  in  your  way?"  she  asked. 

He  turned  his  back  to  her,  then,  and  began 
clipping  away  as  before.  Beth  sprang  up  and 
laid  a  hand  upon  his  arm,  arresting  him.  Again 
he  turned  to  stare  at  her,  and  in  his  eyes  was  a 
look  almost  of  fear. 

She  drew  back. 

"Why  won't  you  speak  to  me?"  enquired  the 
girl,  gently.  "I'm  a  stranger  at  Elmhurst,  but 
I  want  to  be  your  friend.  Won't  you  let  me?" 

To  her  amazement  James  threw  up  his  hands, 
letting  the  shears  clatter  to  the  ground,  and  with 
a  hoarse  cry  turned  and  fled  up  the  path  as  swift- 
ly as  he  could  go. 

Beth  was  really  puzzled,  but  as  she  stood  si- 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

lently  looking  after  the  gardener  she  heard  a  soft 
laugh,  and  found  old  Misery  beside  her. 

"It's  just  his  way,  Miss;  don't  you  be  scared 
by  anything  that  James  does,"  said  the  woman. 
"Why,  at  times  he  won't  even  speak  to  Miss 
Jane." 

"He  isn't  dumb,  is  he?"  asked  Beth. 

"Lor',  no!  But  he's  that  odd  an'  contrary  he 
won't  talk  to  a  soul.  Never  did,  since  the  day 
Master  Tom  was  killed.  James  was  travellin' 
with  Master  Tom,  you  know,  and  there  was  an 
accident,  an'  the  train  run  off'n  the  track  an' 
tipped  over.  James  wasn't  hurt  at  all,  but  he 
dragged  Master  Tom  out'n  the  wreck  and  sat  by 
him  until  he  died.  Then  James  brought  Master 
Tom's  body  back  home  again;  but  his  mind 
seemed  to  have  got  a  shock,  in  some  way,  and 
he  never  was  the  same  afterwards.  He  was 
powerful  fond  of  young  Master  Tom.  But  then, 
we  all  was." 

"Poor  man!"  said  Beth. 

"After  that,"  resumed  Misery,  "all  that  James 
would  do  was  to  look  after  the  flowers.  Miss 
Jane,  after  she  came,  made  him  the  head  gard- 

116 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

ener,  and  he's  proved  a  rare  good  one,  too.  But 
James  he  won't  even  talk  to  Miss  Jane,  nor  even 
to  his  old  friend  Lawyer  Watson,  who  used  to 
be  Master  Tom's  special  chum  an'  comrade.  He 
does  his  duty,  and  obeys  all  Miss  Jane's  orders 
as  faithful  as  can  be ;  but  he  won't  talk,  an'  we've 
all  give  up  tryin'  to  make  him." 

"But  why  should  I  frighten  him?"  asked  the 
girl. 

"You  tried  to  make  him  talk,  and  you're  a 
stranger.  Strangers  always  affect  James  that 
way.  I  remember  when  Miss  Jane  first  came 
to  Elmhurst  he  screamed  at  the  sight  of  her ;  but 
when  he  found  out  that  Master  Tom  loved  her 
and  had  given  her  Elmhurst,  James  followed  her 
around  like  a  dog,  and  did  everything  she  told 
him  to.  But  breakfast  is  ready,  Miss.  I  came  to 
call  you." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Beth,  turning  to  walk  be- 
side the  housekeeper. 

According  to  Aunt  Jane's  instructions  the 
breakfast  was  served  in  her  own  room,  and  pres- 
ently Louise,  dressed  in  a  light  silk  kimona,  came 

117 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

in  bearing  her  tray  "to  keep  her  cousin  company," 
she  laughingly  announced. 

"I  should  have  slept  an  hour  longer,"  she 
yawned,  over  her  chocolate,  "but  old  Misery — 
who  seems  rightly  named — insisted  on  waking 
me,  just  that  I  might  eat.  Isn't  this  a  funny  es- 
tablishment?" 

"It's  different  from  everything  I'm  used  to," 
answered  Beth,  gravely;  "but  it  seems  very  pleas- 
ant here,  and  everyone  is  most  kind  and  atten- 
tive." 

"Now  I'll  dress,"  said  Louise,  "and  we'll  take 
a  long  walk  together,  and  see  the  place." 

So  it  happened  that  Kenneth  clattered  down 
the  road  on  the  sorrel  mare  just  a  moment  before 
the  girls  emerged  from  the  house,  and  while  he 
was  riding  off  his  indignation  at  their  presence  at 
Elmhurst,  they  were  doing  just  what  his  horri- 
fied imagination  had  depicted — that  is,  penetrat- 
ing to  all  parts  of  the  grounds,  to  every  nook  in 
the  spacious  old  gardens  and  even  to  the  stables, 
where  Beth  endeavored  to  make  a  friend  of  old 
Donald  the  coachman. 

However,  the  gray-whiskered  Scotsman  was 

118 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

not  to  be  taken  by  storm,  even  by  a  pretty  face. 
His  loyalty  to  "the  boy"  induced  him  to  be  wary 
in  associating  with  these  strange  "young  females" 
and  although  he  welcomed  them  to  the  stable 
with  glum  civility  he  withheld  his  opinion  of 
them  until  he  should  know  them  better. 

In  their  rambles  the  girls  found  Kenneth's 
own  stair,  and  were  sitting  upon  it  when  Phibbs 
came  to  summon  Louise  to  attend  upon  Aunt 
Jane. 

She  obeyed  with  alacrity,  for  she  wished  to 
know  more  of  the  queer  relative  whose  guest  she 
had  become. 

"Sit  down,"  said  Aunt  Jane,  very  graciously, 
as  the  girl  entered. 

Louise  leaned  over  the  chair,  kissed  her  and 
patted  her  cheek  affectionately,  and  then  shook 
up  the  pillows  to  make  them  more  comfortable. 

"I  want  you  to  talk  to  me,"  announced  Aunt 
Jane,  "and  to  tell  me  something  of  the  city  and 
the  society  in  which  you  live.  I've  been  so  long 
dead  to  the  world  that  I've  lost  track  of  people 
and  things." 

"Let  me  dress  your  hair  at  the  same  time," 

119 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

said  Louise,  pleadingly.  "It  looks  really  frowsy, 
and  I  can  talk  while  I  work." 

"I  can't  lift  my  left  hand,"  said  the  invalid, 
flushing,  "and  Phibbs  is  a  stupid  ass." 

"Never  mind,  I  can  make  it  look  beautiful  in 
half  a  jiffy,"  said  the  girl,  standing  behind  the 
chair  and  drawing  deftly  the  hairpins  from  Aunt 
Jane's  scanty  grey  locks,  "and  you  can't  imagine 
how  it  pleases  me  to  fuss  over  anyone." 

It  was  surprising  how  meekly  Aunt  Jane  sub- 
mitted to  this  ordeal,  but  she  plied  the  girl  with 
many  shrewd  questions  and  Louise,  busily  work- 
ing in  a  position  where  the  old  woman  could  not 
see  her  face,  never  hesitated  for  an  answer.  She 
knew  all  the  recent  gossip  of  fashionable  society, 
and  retailed  it  glibly.  She  had  met  this  celebrity 
at  a  ball  and  that  one  at  a  reception,  and  she  de- 
scribed them  minutely,  realizing  that  Aunt  Jane 
would  never  be  in  a  position  to  contradict  any  as- 
sertion she  might  choose  to  make. 

Indeed,  Aunt  Jane  was  really  startled. 

"However  did  your  mother  manage  to  gain 
an  entree  into  society  ?"  she  asked.  "Your  father 

I2O 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

was  a  poor  man  and  of  little  account.     I  know, 
for  he  was  my  own  brother." 

"He  left  us  a  very  respectable  life  insurance," 
said  Louise,  demurely,  "and  my  mother  had  many 
friends  who  were  glad  to  introduce  us  to  good 
society  when  we  were  able  to  afford  such  a  lux- 
ury. Father  died  twelve  years  ago,  you  know, 
and  for  several  years,  while  I  was  at  school, 
mother  lived  very  quietly.  Then  she  decided  it 
was  time  I  made  my  debut,  but  for  the  last  sea- 
son we  have  been  rather  gay,  I  admit." 

"Are  you  rich  ?"  asked  Aunt  Jane,  sharply. 

"Mercy,  no!"  laughed  Louise,  who  had  fin- 
ished her  work  and  now  sat  her  aunt's  feet. 
"But  we  have  enough  for  our  requirements,  and 
that  makes  us  feel  quite  independent.  By  the 
way,  auntie,  I  want  to  return  that  check  you  sent 
me.  It  was  awfully  good  and  generous  of  you, 
but  I  didn't  need  it,  you  know,  and  so  I  want 
you  to  take  it  back." 

She  drew  the  slip  of  paper  from  her  pocket 
and  pressed  it  into  Aunt  Jane's  hand. 

"It's  quite  enough  for  you  to  give  me  this 
nice  treat  in  the  country,"  resumed  the  girl,  calm- 

121 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

ly.  "The  change  from  the  city  will  do  me  a  world 
of  good,  and  as  I  wanted  to  be  quiet,  and  rest 
I  declined  all  my  other  invitations  for  the  sum- 
mer to  accept  yours.  Isn't  it  glorious  that  we  can 
get  acquainted  at  last?  And  I  quite  love  Elm- 
hurst,  already!" 

Aunt  Jane  was  equally  surprised  and  grati- 
fied. The  return  of  the  check  for  a  hundred  dol- 
lars was  very  pleasant.  She  had  drawn  a  simi- 
lar check  for  each  of  her  three  nieces,  believing 
that  it  would  be  necessary  for  her  to  meet  their 
expenses,  and  she  had  considered  the  expenditure 
in  the  nature  of  a  business  transaction.  But  Pat- 
ricia had  flung  one  check  in  her  face,  practically, 
and  now  Louise  had  voluntarily  returned  another, 
because  she  did  not  need  the  money.  Really, 
Jane  Merrick  was  accomplishing  her  purpose  for 
less  money  than  she  had  expected,  and  she  had 
hoarded  her  wealth  for  so  many  years  that  she 
disliked  to  spend  any  of  it  foolishly. 

Louise  had  read  her  nature  correctly.  It  had 
been  a  little  hard  to  return  so  large  a  check,  but 
the  girl's  policy  was  not  to  appear  before  Aunt 
Jane  as  a  poor  relation,  but  rather  as  a  young 

122 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

lady  fitted  by  social  education  and  position  to  be- 
come a  gracious  mistress  of  Elmhurst.  This  she 
believed  would  give  her  a  powerful  advantage 
over  all  competitors. 

Whether  she  was  right  or  not  in  this  surmise 
it  is  certain  that  she  rose  several  points  in  Aunt 
Jane's  estimation  during  this  interview,  and  when 
she  wyas  dismissed  it  was  so  graciously  that  she 
told  herself  the  money  her  little  plot  had  cost  had 
been  well  expended. 

Afterward  Elizabeth  wras  summoned  to  attend 
her  aunt. 

"I  want  to  be  amused.  Can  you  read  aloud  ?" 
said  the  invalid. 

"Not  very  well,  I'm  afraid.  But  I'll  be  glad 
to  try,"  answered  Beth.  "What  do  you  like?" 

"Select  your  own  book,"  said  Aunt  Jane, 
pointing  to  a  heap  of  volumes  beside  her. 

The  girl  hesitated.  Louise  would  doubtless 
have  chosen  a  romance,  or  some  light  tale  sure 
to  interest  for  the  hour,  and  so  amuse  the  old 
lady.  But  Beth  erroneously  judged  that  the  aged 
and  infirm  love  sober  and  scholarly  books,  and 

123 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

picked  out  a  treatise  that  proved  ineffably  dull 
and  tedious. 

Aunt  Jane  sniffed,  and  then  smiled  slyly  and 
proceeded  to  settle  herself  for  a  nap.  If  the  girl 
was  a  fool,  let  her  be  properly  punished. 

Beth  read  for  an  hour,  uncertain  whether  her 
aunt  were  intensely  interested  or  really  asleep. 
At  the  end  of  that  dreadful  period  old  Misery 
entered  and  aroused  the  sleeper  without  cere- 
mony. 

"What's  the  matter?"  asked  Aunt  Jane,  quer- 
rulously,  for  she  resented  being  disturbed. 

"There's  a  man  to  see  you,  Miss." 

"Send  him  about  his  business!" 

"But—" 

"I  won't  see  him,  I  tell  you!" 

"But  he  says  he's  your  brother,  Miss." 

"Who?" 

"Your  brother." 

Miss  Jane  stared  as  if  bewildered. 

"Your  brother  John,  Miss." 

The  invalid  sank  back  upon  her  cushions  with 
a  sigh  of  resignation. 

'"I  thought  he  was  dead,  long  ago ;  but  if  he's 

124 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

alive  I  suppose  I'll  have  to  see  him,"  she  said. 
"Elizabeth,  leave  the  room.  Misery,  send  the 
man  here!" 


CHAPTER  XII. 


UNCLE    JOHN    GETS    ACQUAINTED. 

Beth  went  out  to  find  Louise,  and  discovered 
her  standing  near  the  stables,  where  a  boy  was 
rubbing  down  the  sides  of  a  sorrel  mare  with 
wisps  of  straw. 

"Something  has  happened,"  she  said  to  Louise 
in  a  troubled  voice 

"What?" 

"A  man  has  arrived  who  says  he  is  Aunt 
Jane's  brother." 

"Impossible!     Have  you  seen  him?" 

"No ;  he  says  he's  Aunt  Jane's  brother  John." 

"Oh;  I  know.  The  peddler,  or  tinker,  or 
something  or  other  who  disappeared  years  ago. 
But  it  doesn't  matter." 

"It  may  matter  a  good  deal,"  said  practical 
Beth.  "Aunt  Jane  may  leave  him  her  money." 

126 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

"Why,  he's  older  than  she  is.  I've  heard 
mother  say  he  was  the  eldest  of  the  family.  Aunt 
Jane  wont  leave  her  money  to  an  old  man,  you 
may  be  sure." 

Beth  felt  a  little  reassured  at  this,  and  stood 
for  a  moment  beside  Louise  watching  the  boy. 
Presently  Oscar  came  to  him,  and  after  touch- 
ing his  hat  respectfully  took  the  mare  and  led 
her  into  the  stable.  The  boy  turned  away,  with 
his  hands  in  his  pockets,  and  strolled  up  a  path, 
unaware  that  the  two  dreaded  girls  had  been 
observing  him. 

"I  wonder  who  that  is,"  said  Beth. 

"We'll  find  out,"  returned  Louise.  "I  took 
him  for  a  stable  boy,  at  first.  But  Oscar  seemed 
to  treat  him  as  a  superior." 

She  walked  into  the  stable,  followed  by  her 
cousin,  and  found  the  groom  tying  the  mare. 

"Who  was  the  young  man?"  she  asked. 

"Which  young  man,  Miss?" 

"The  one  who  has  just  arrived  with  the 
horse." 

"Oh ;  that's  Master  Kenneth,  Miss,"  answered 
Oscar,  with  a  grin. 

127 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

"Where  did  he  come  from?" 

"Master    Kenneth?     Why,    he    lives   here." 

"At  the  house?" 

"Yes,  Miss." 

"Who  is  he?" 

"Master  Tom's  nephew — he  as  used  to  own 
Elmhurst,  you  know." 

"Mr.  Thomas  Bradley?" 

"The  same,  Miss." 

"Ah.  How  long  has  Master  Kenneth  lived 
here?" 

"A  good  many  years.  I  can't  just  remember 
how  long." 

"Thank  you,  Oscar." 

The  girls  walked  away,  and  when  they  were 
alone  Louise  remarked : 

"Here  is  a  more  surprising  discovery  than 
Uncle  John,  Beth.  The  boy  has  a  better  right 
than  any  of  us  to  inherit  Elmhurst." 

"Then  why  did  Aunt  Jane  send  for  us?" 

"It's  a  mystery,  dear.  Let  us  try  to  solve  it." 

"Come;  we'll  ask  the  housekeeper,"  said 
Beth.  "I'm  sure  old  Misery  will  tell  us  all  we 
want  to  know." 

128 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

So  they  returned  to  the  house  and,  with  little 
difficulty,  found  the  old  housekeeper. 

"Master  Kenneth?"  she  exclaimed.  "Why, 
he's  just  Master  Tom's  nephew,  that's  all." 

"Is  this  his  home?"  asked  Beth. 

"All  the  home  he's  got,  my  dear.  His  father 
and  mother  are  both  dead,  and  Miss  Jane  took 
him  to  care  for  just  because  she  thought  Master 
Tom  would  'a'  liked  it." 

"Is  she  fond  of  him?"  enquired  Louise. 

"Fond  of  the  boy?  Why,  Miss  Jane  just 
hates  him,  for  a  fact.  She  won't  even  see  him, 
or  have  him  near  her.  So  he  keeps  to  his  little 
room  in  the  left  wing,  and  eats  and  sleeps  there." 

"It's  strange,"  remarked  Beth,  thoughtfully. 
"Isn't  he  a  nice  boy?" 

"We're  all  very  fond  of  Master  Kenneth,"  re- 
plied the  housekeeper,  simply.  "But  I'll  admit 
he's  a  queer  lad,  and  has  a  bad  temper.  It  may 
be  due  to  his  lack  of  bringin'  up,  you  know ;  for 
he  just  runs  wild,  and  old  Mr.  Chase,  who  comes 
from  the  village  to  tutor  him,  is  a  poor  lot,  and 
lets  the  boy  do  as  he  pleases.  For  that  reason  he 
won't  study,  and  he  won't  work,  and  I'm  sure  I 

129 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

don't  know  whatever  will  become  of  him,  when 
Miss  Jane  dies." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Beth,  much  relieved,  and 
the  girls  walked  away  with  lighter  hearts. 

"There's  no  danger  in  that  quarter,  after  all," 
said  Louise,  gaily.  "The  boy  is  a  mere  hanger- 
on.  You  see,  Aunt  Jane's  old  sweetheart,  Thom- 
as Bradley,  left  everything  to  her  when  he  died, 
and  she  can  do  as  she  likes  with  it." 

After  luncheon,  which  they  ate  alone  and  un- 
attended save  by  the  maid  Susan,  who  was  old 
Misery's  daughter,  the  girls  walked  away  to  the 
rose  arbor,  where  Beth  declared  they  could  read 
or  sew  quite  undisturbed. 

But  sitting  upon  the  bench  they  found  a  little 
old  man,  his  legs  extended,  his  hands  thrust 
deep  into  his  pockets,  and  a  look  of  calm  medita- 
tion upon,  his  round  and  placid  face.  Between  his 
teeth  was  a  black  brier  pipe,  which  he  puffed 
lazily. 

Beth  was  for  drawing  back,  but  Louise  took 
her  arm  and  drew  her  forward. 

"Isn't  this  Uncle  John?"  she  asked. 

The  little  man  turned  his  eyes  upon  them, 

130 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

withdrew  his  hands  from  his  pockets  and  his  pipe 
from  his  mouth,  and  then  bowed  profoundly. 

"If  you  are  my  nieces,  then  I  am  Uncle  John," 
he  said,  affably.  "Sit  down,  my  dears,  and  let  us 
get  acquainted." 

Louise  smiled,  and  her  rapid  survey  took  in 
the  man's  crumpled  and  somewhat  soiled  shirt- 
front,  the  frayed  black  necktie  that  seemed  to 
have  done  years  of  faithful  service,  and  the  thick 
and  dusty  cow-hide  boots.  His  clothing  was  old 
and  much  worn,  and  the  thought  crossed  her 
mind  that  Oscar  the  groom  was  far  neater  in  ap- 
pearance than  this  newly-found  relative. 

Beth  merely  noticed  that  Uncle  John  was 
neither  dignified  nor  imposing  in  appearance.  She 
sat  down  beside  him — leaving  a  wide  space  be- 
ttv/een  "them — with  a  feeling  of  disappointment 
'that  .he  \yas  "like  all  the  rest  of  the  Merricks." 

"Yt>u  have  just  arrived,  we  hear,"  remarked 
Lou'rse. 

"Yes.  Walked  up  from  the  station  this  fore- 
noon," said  Uncle  John.  "Come  to  see  Jane,  you 
know,  but  hadn't  any  idea  I'd  find  two  nieces. 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

Hadn't  any  idea  I  possessed  two  nieces,  to  be 
honest  about  it." 

"I  believe  you  have  three,"  said  Louise,  in  an 
amused  tone. 

"Three?   Who's  the  other?" 

"Why,  Patricia  Doyle." 

"Doyle?  Doyle?  Don't  remember  the 
name." 

"I  believe  your  sister  Violet  married  a  man 
named  Doyle." 

"So  she  did.  Captain  Doyle — or  Major  Doyle 
— or  some  such  fellow.  But  what  is  your  name  ?" 

"I  am  Louise  Merrick,  your  brother  Will's 
daughter." 

"Oh!     And  you?"  turning  to  Beth. 

"My  mother  was  Julia  Merrick,"  said  Beth, 
not  very  graciously.  "She  married  Professor 
De  Graf.  I  am  Elizabeth  De  Graf." 

"Yes,  yes,"  observed  Uncle  John,  nodding 
his  head.  "I  remember  Julia  very  well,  as  a  girl. 
She  used  to  put  on  a  lot  of  airs,  and  jaw  father 
because  he  wouldn't  have  the  old  top-buggy  paint- 
ed every  spring.  Same  now  as  ever,  I  s'pose?" 

Beth  did  not  reply. 

132 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

"And  Will's  dead,  and  out  of  his  troubles,  I 
hope,"  continued  Uncle  John,  reflectively.  "He 
wrote  me  once  that  his  wife  had  nearly  driven 
him  crazy.  Perhaps  she  murdered  him  in  his 
sleep — eh,  Louise?" 

"Sir,"  said  Louise,  much  offended,  "you  are 
speaking  of  my  mother." 

"Ah,  yes.  It's  the  same  one  your  father 
spoke  of,"  he  answered,  unmoved.  "But  that's 
neither  here  nor  there.  The  fact  is,  I've  found 
two  nieces,"  looking  shrewdly  from  one  face  into 
the  other,  "and  I  seem  to  be  in  luck,  for  you're 
quite  pretty  and  ladylike,  my  dears." 

"Thank  you/'  said  Louise,  rather  coldly. 
"You're  a  competent  judge,  sir,  I  suppose." 

"Tolerable,"  he  responded,  with  a  chuckle. 
"So  good  a  judge  that  I've  kep'  single  all  my 
life." 

"Where  did  you  come  from?"  asked  the  girl. 

"From  out  on  the  coast,"  tossing  his  griz- 
zled head  toward  the  west. 

"What  brought  you  back  here,  after  all  these 
years  ?" 

133 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

"Family  affection,  I  guess.  Wanted  to  find 
out  what  folks  yet  belonged  to  me." 

An  awkward  silence  followed  this,  during 
which  Uncle  John  relighted  his  pipe  and  Beth  sat 
in  moody  silence.  Louise  drew  a  pattern  in  the 
gravel  with  the  end  of  her  parasol.  This  new 
uncle,  she  reflected,  might  become  an  intolerable 
bore,  if  she  encouraged  his  frank  familiarity. 

"Now  that  you  are  here,"  she  said,  presently, 
"what  are  you  going  to  do?" 

"Nothing,  my  dear." 

"Have  you  any  money?" 

He  looked  at  her  with  a  droll  expression. 

"Might  have  expected  that  question,  my 
dear,"  said  he;  "but  it's  rather  hard  to  answer. 
rf  I  say  no,  you'll  be  afraid  I'll  want  to  borrow  a 
little  spendin'  money,  now  an'  then;  and  if  I  say 
yes,  you'll  take  me  for  a  Rockyfeller." 

"Not  exactly,"  smiled  Louise. 

"Well,  then,  if  I  figure  close  I  won't  have  to, 
borrow,"  he  responded,  gravely.  "And  here's 
Jane,  my  sister,  just  rolling  in  wealth  that  she 
don't  know  what  to  do  with.  And  she's  invited 

134 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

me  to  stay  a  while.    So  let's  call  the  money  ques- 
tion settled,  my  dear." 

Another  silence   ensued.      Louise  had   satis- 
fied her  curiosity  concerning  her  new  uncle,  and 
Beth  had  never  had  any.     There  was  nothing 
more  to  say,  and  as  Uncle  John  showed  no  in- 
tention of  abandoning  the  arbored  seat,  it  was 
evident  they  must  go  themselves.     Louise  was 
about  to  rise  when  the  man  remarked : 
"Jane  won't  last  long". 
"You  think  not?"  she  asked. 
"She  says  she's  half  dead  a'ready,  and  I  be- 
lieve it.     It's  about  time,  you  know.     She's  let 
her  temper  and  restless  disposition  wear  her  out. 
Pretty  soon  she'll  blow  out,  like  a  candle.     All 
that  worries  her  is  to  keep  alive  until  she  can  de- 
cide  who  to  leave  her  money  to.     That's  why 
you're  here,  I  s'pose,  my  dears.    How  do  you  like 
being  on  exhibition,  an'  goin'  through  your  paces, 
like  a  bunch  o'  trotting  hosses,  to  see  which  is 
worth  the  most?" 

"Uncle  John,"   said   Beth,   "I   had   hoped   I 
would  like  you.     But  if  you  are  going  to  be  so 

135 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

very  disagreeable,  I'll  have  nothing  more  to  do 
with  you!" 

With  this  she  arose  and  marched  up  the 
path,  vastly  indignant,  and  Louise  marched  be- 
side her.  At  the  bend  in  the  walk  they  glanced 
back,  and  saw  Uncle  John  sitting  upon  the  bench 
all  doubled  up  and  shaking  with  silent  laughter. 

"He's  a  queer  old  man,"  said  Beth,  flushing; 
"but  he's  impudent  and  half  a  fool." 

"Don't  judge  hastily,  Beth,"  replied  Louise, 
reflectively.  "I  can't  make  up  my  mind,  just  yet, 
whether  Uncle  John  is  a  fool  or  not." 

"Anyhow,"  snapped  Beth,  "he's  laughing  at 
us." 

"And  that,"  said  her  cousin,  softly,  "is  the 
strongest  evidence  of  his  sanity.  Beth,  my  love, 
Aunt  Jane  has  placed  us  in  a  most  ridiculous  po- 
sition." 

That  evening  at  dinner  they  met  Uncle  John 
again,  seated  opposite  Aunt  Jane  in  the  great 
dining  hall.  The  mistress  of  Elmhurst  always 
dressed  for  this  meal  and  tonight  she  wore  a 
rich  black  silk  and  had  her  invalid  chair  wheeled 
to  her  place  at  the  head  of  the  table.  Uncle  John 

136 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

had  simply  changed  his  old  black  necktie  for  a 
soiled  white  one.  Otherwise  his  apparel  was  the 
same  as  before,  and  his  stubby  gray  hair  was  in  a 
sad  state  of  disarray.  But  his  round  face  wore 
a  cheerful  smile,  nevertheless,  and  Aunt  Jane 
seemed  not  to  observe  anything  outre  in  her 
brother's  appearance.  And  so  the  meal  passed 
pleasantly  enough. 

After  it  was  finished  Uncle  John  strolled  into 
the  garden  to  smoke  his  pipe  under  the  stars  and 
Louise  sang  a  few  songs  for  Aunt  Jane  in  the 
dimly-lit  drawing  room.  Beth,  who  was  a  music 
teacher's  daughter,  could  not  sing  at  all. 

It  was  some  time  later  when  John  Merrick 
came  to  his  sister's  room  to  bid  her  good  night. 

"Well,"  she  asked  him,  "what  do  you  think 
of  the  girls?" 

"My  nieces?" 

"Yes." 

"During  my  lifetime,"  said  the  old  man,  "I've 
always  noticed  that  girls  are  just  girls — and  noth- 
ing more.  Jane,  your  sex  is  a  puzzle  that  ain't 
worth  the  trouble  solving.  You're  all  alike,  and 
what  little  I've  seen  of  my  nieces  convinces  me 

137 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

they're  regulation  females — no  better  nor  worse 
than  their  kind." 

"Louise  seems  a  capable  girl,"  declared  Aunt 
Jane,  musingly.  "I  didn't  care  much  for  her,  at 
first ;  but  she  improves  on  acquaintance.  She  has 
been  well  trained  by  her  mother,  and  is  very  lady- 
like  and  agreeable." 

"She's  smarter  than  the  other  one,  but  not  so 
honest,"  said  Uncle  John. 

"Beth  has  no  tact  at  all,"  replied  Aunt  Jane. 
"But  then,  she's  younger  than  Louise." 

"If  you're  trying  to  figure  out  what  they  are, 
and  what  they  are  not,"  returned  the  man,  "you've 
got  a  hard  job  on  your  hands,  Jane,  and  like  as 
not  you'll  make  a  mistake  in  the  end.  Where's 
the  other  niece?  Aren't  there  three  of  them?" 

"Yes.  The  other's  coming.  Silas  Watson, 
my  lawyer,  has  just  telegraphed  from  New  York 
that  he's  bringing  Patricia  back  with  him." 

"Had  to  send  for  her,  eh  ?" 

"Yes.  She's  Irish,  and  if  I  remember  rightly 
her  father  is  a  disgraceful  old  reprobate,  who 
caused  poor  Violet  no  end  of  worry.  The  girl 
may  be  like  him,  for  she  wrote  me  a  dreadful 

138 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

letter,  scolding  me  because  I  hadn't  kept  her  par- 
ents supplied  with  money,  and  refusing  to  become 
my  guest." 

"But  she's  changed  her  mind?" 

"I  sent  Watson  after  her,  and  he's  bringing 
her.  I  wanted  to  see  what  the  girl  is  like." 

Uncle  John  whistled  a  few  bars  of  an  ancient 
tune. 

''My  advice  is,"  he  said,  finally,  "to  let  'em 
draw  cuts  for  Elmhurst.  If  you  want  to  leave 
your  money  to  the  best  o'  the  lot,  you're  as  sure 
of  striking  it  right  that  way  as  any  other." 

"Nonsense!"  said  Jane  Merrick,  sharply.  "I 
don't  want  to  leave  my  money  to  the  best  of  the 
lot." 

"No?" 

"By  no  means.  I  want  to  leave  it  to  the  one 
I  prefer — whether  she's  the  best  or  not." 

"I  see.  Jane,  I'll  repeat  my  former  observa- 
tion. Your  sex  is  a  puzzle  that  isn't  worth  solv- 
ing. Good  night,  old  girl." 

"Good  night,   John." 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


THE    OTHER    NIECE. 

Patricia  sat  down  opposite  her  Aunt  Jane. 
She  still  wore  her  hat  and  the  gray  wrap. 

"Well,  here  I  am,"  she  exclaimed,  with  a 
laugh;  "but  whether  I  ought  to  be  here  or  not  I 
have  my  doubts." 

Aunt  Jane  surveyed  her  critically. 

"You're  a  queer  little  thing,"  she  said,  blunt- 
ly. "I  wonder  why  I  took  so  much  trouble  to  get 
you." 

"So  do  I,"  returned  Patsy,  her  eyes  twink- 
ling. "You'll  probably  be  sorry  for  it." 

Lawyer  Watson,  who  had  remained  standing, 
now  broke  in  nervously. 

"I  explained  to  Miss  Doyle,"  said  he,  "that 
you  were  ill,  and  wanted  to  see  her.  And  she 

140 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

kindly  consented  to  come  to  Elmhurst  for  a  few 
days." 

"You  see,"  said  Patsy,  "I'd  just  got  Daddy 
away  on  his  vacation,  to  visit  his  old  colonel.  I've 
wanted  him  to  go  this  three  years  back,  but 
he  couldn't  afford  it  until  I  got  a  raise  this 
Spring.  He'll  have  a  glorious  old  time  with  the 
colonel,  and  they'll  fish  and  hunt  and  drink 
whiskey  all  day,  and  fight  the  war  all  over  again 
every  evening.  So  I  was  quite  by  myself  when 
Mr.  Watson  came  to  me  and  wouldn't  take  no  for 
his  answer." 

"Why  did  you  object  to  come  here?"  asked 
Aunt  Jane. 

"Well,  I  didn't  know  you;  and  I  didn't  es- 
pecially want  to  know  you.  Not  that  I  bear 
grudges,  understand,  although  you've  been  little 
of  a  friend  to  my  folks  these  past  years.  But  you 
are  rich  and  proud — and  I  suspect  you're  a  little 
cross,  Aunt  Jane — while  we  are  poor  and  proud 
and  like  to  live  our  lives  in  our  own  way.'* 

"Are  you  a  working  girl?"  enquired  Miss 
Merrick. 

"Surely,"    said   Patsy,   "and   drawing  a   big 

I4.I 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

lump  of  salary  every  Saturday  night.  I'm  a 
hair-dresser,  you  know — and  by  the  way,  Aunt 
Jane,  it  puzzles  me  to  find  a  certain  kink  in  your 
hair  that  I  thought  I'd  invented  myself."  ' 

"Louise  dressed  my  hair  this  way,"  said  Miss 
Merrick,  a  bit  stiffly. 

"Your  maid?" 

"My  niece,  Louise  Merrick." 

Patsy  whistled,  and  then  clapped  her  hand 
over  her  mouth  and  looked  grave. 

"Is  she  here?"  she  asked,  a  moment  later. 

"Yes,  and  your  other  cousin,  Elizabeth  De 
Graf,  is  here  also." 

"That's  just  the  trouble,"  cried  Patsy,  en- 
ergetically. "That's  why  I  didn't  want  to  come, 
you  know." 

"I  don't  understand  you,  Patricia." 

"Why,  it's  as  plain  as  the  nose  on  your  face, 
even  if  I  hadn't  pumped  Mr.  Watson  until  I  got 
the  truth  out  of  him.  You  want  us  girls  here 
just  to  compare  us  with  each  other,  and  pick  out 
the  one  you  like  best." 

"Well?" 

142 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

"The  others  you'll  throw  over,  and  the  favor- 
ite will  get  your  money." 

"Haven't  I  a  right  to  do  that  ?"  asked  the  in- 
valid, in  an  amazed  tone. 

"Perhaps  you  have.  But  we  may  as  well 
understand  each  other  right  now,  Aunt  Jane.  I 
won't  touch  a  penny  of  your  money,  under  any 
circumstances." 

"I  don't  think  you  will,  Patricia." 

The  girl  laughed,  with  a  joyous,  infectious 
merriment  that  was  hard  to  resist. 

"Stick  to  that,  aunt,  and  there's  no  reason 
we  shouldn't  be  friends,"  she  said,  pleasantly. 
"I  don't  mind  coming  to  see  you,  for  it  will  give 
me  a  bit  of  a  rest  and  the  country  is  beautiful 
just  now.  More  than  that,  I  believe  I  shall  like 
you.  You've  had  your  own  way  a  long  time,  and 
you've  grown  crochetty  and  harsh  and  disagree- 
able; but  there  are  good  lines  around  your 
mouth  and  eyes,  and  your  nature's  liable  to 
soften  and  get  sunny  again.  I'm  sure  I  hope  so. 
So,  if  you'd  like  me  to  stay  a  few  days,  I'll 
take  off  my  things  and  make  myself  at  home. 
But  I'm  out  of  the  race  for  your  money,  and  I'll 

H3 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

pay  my  way  from  now  on  just  as  I  have  always 
done." 

Silas  Watson  watched  Aunt  Jane's  face  dur- 
ing this  speech  with  an  anxious  and  half-fright- 
ened expression  upon  his  own.  No  one  but  him- 
self had  ever  dared  to  talk  to  Jane  Merrick  as 
plainly  as  this  before,  and  he  wondered  how  she 
would  accept  such  frankness  from  a  young  girl. 

But  Patricia's  manner  was  not  at  all  offen- 
sive. Her  big  eyes  were  as  frank  as  her  words, 
but  they  glistened  with  kindliness  and  good  na- 
ture, and  it  was  evident  the  girl  had  no  doubt  at 
all  of  her  aunt's  reply,  for  she  straightway  be- 
gun to  take  off  her  hat. 

The  invalid  had  kept  her  eyes  sternly  fas- 
tened upon  her  young  niece  ever  since  the  be- 
ginning of  the  interview.  Now  she  reached  out 
a  hand  and  touched  her  bell. 

"Misery,"  she  said  to  the  old  housekeeper, 
"show  my  niece,  Miss  Patricia,  to  the  rose  cham- 
ber. And  see  that  she  is  made  comfortable." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Patsy,  jumping  up  to  go. 

"Make  yourself  perfectly  free  of  the  place," 
continued  Aunt  Jane,  in  an  even  tone,  turning 

144 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

to  Patricia,  "and  have  as  good  a  time  as  you  can. 
I'm  afraid  it's  rather  stupid  here  for  girls,  but 
that  can't  be  helped.  Stay  as  long  as  you  please, 
and  go  home  whenever  you  like;  but  while  you 
are  here,  if  you  ever  feel  like  chatting  with  a 
harsh  and  disagreeable  old  woman,  come  to  me 
at  any  time  and  you  will  be  welcome." 

Patsy,  standing  before  her,  looked  down  into 
her  worn  face  with  a  pitying  expression. 

"Ah!  I've  been  cruel  to  you,"  she  exclaimed, 
impulsively,  "and  I  didn't  mean  to  hurt  you  at 
all,  Aunt  Jane.  You  must  forgive  me.  It's 
just  my  blunt  Irish  way,  you  see;  but  if  I  hadn't 
been  drawn  to  you  from  the  first  I  wouldn't  have 
said  a  word — good  or  bad!" 

"Go  now,"  replied  Aunt  Jane,  turning  in  her 
chair  rather  wearily.  "But  come  to  me  again 
whenever  you  like." 

Patsy  nodded,  and  followed  the  housekeeper 
to  the  rose  chamber — the  prettiest  room  old  Elm- 
hurst  possessed,  with  broad  windows  opening  di- 
rectly upon  the  finest  part  of  the  garden. 

Lawyer  Watson  sat  opposite  his  old  friend 
for  some  moments  in  thoughtful  silence. 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

"The  child  is  impossible,"  he  said,  at  last. 

"You  think  so?"  she  enquired,  moodily. 

"Absolutely.  Either  of  the  others  would 
make  a  better  Lady  of  Elmhurst.  Yet  I  like  the 
little  thing,  I  confess.  She  quite  won  my  old 
heart  after  I  had  known  her  for  five  minutes. 
But  money  would  ruin  her.  She's  a  child  of  the 
people,  and  ought  not  to  be  raised  from  her 
proper  level.  Jane,  Jane — you're  making  a 
grave  mistake  in  all  this.  Why  don't  you  do  the 
only  right  thing  in  your  power,  and  leave  Elm- 
hurst  to  Kenneth?" 

"You  bore  me,  Silas,"  she  answered,  coldly. 
"The  boy  is  the  most  impossible  of  all." 

It  was  the  old  protest  and  the  old  reply.  He 
had  hardly  expected  anything  different. 

After  a  period  of  thought  he  asked : 

"What  is  this  I  hear  about  John  Merrick  hav- 
ing returned  from  the  West  ?" 

"He  came  yesterday.  It  was  a  great  surprise 
to  me." 

"I  never  knew  this  brother,  I  believe." 

"No;  he  had  gone  away  before  I  became  ac- 
quainted with  either  you  or  Tom." 

146 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

"What  sort  of  a  man  is  he  ?" 

"Honest  and  simple,  hard-headed  and  ex- 
perienced." 

"Is  he  independent?" 

"I  believe  so;  he  has  never  mentioned  his 
affairs  to  me.  But  he  has  worked  hard  all  his 
life,  he  says,  and  now  means  to  end  his  days 
peacefully.  John  is  not  especially  refined  in  his 
manner,  nor  did  he  have  much  of  an  education; 
but  he  seems  to  be  a  good  deal  of  a  man,  for  all 
that.  I  am  very  glad  he  appeared,  at  Elmhurst 
just  at  this  time." 

"You  had  believed  him  dead?" 

"Yes.  He  had  passed  out  of  my  life  com- 
pletely, and  I  never  knew  what  became  of  him." 

"He  must  be  an  eccentric  person,"  said  Mr. 
Watson,  with  a  smile. 

"He  is,"  she  acknowledged.  "But  blood  is 
thicker  than  water,  Silas,  and  I'm  glad  brother 
John  is  here  at  last." 

A  little  later  the  lawyer  left  her  and  picked 
his  way  through  the  gardens  until  he  came  to 
Kenneth's  wing  and  the  stair  that  led  to  his 
room.  Here  he  paused  a  moment,  finding  him- 

147 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

self  surrounded  by  a  profound  stillness,  broken 
only  by  the  chirping-  of  the  birds  in  the  shrub- 
bery. Perhaps  Kenneth  was  not  in.  He  half 
decided  to  retrace  His  steps,  but  finally  mounted 
the  stair  softly  and  stood  within  the  doorway  of 
the  room. 

The  boy  and  a  little  stout  man  were  playing 
chess  at  a  table,  and  both  were  in  a  deep  study 
of  the  game.  The  boy's  back  was  toward  him, 
but  the  man  observed  the  newcomer  and  gave  a 
nod.  Then  he  dropped  his  eyes  again  to  the 
table. 

Kenneth  was  frowning  sullenly. 

"You're  bound  to  lose  the  pawn,  whichever 
way  you  play,"  said  the  little  man  quietly. 

The  boy  gave  an  angry  cry,  and  thrust  the 
table  from  him,  sending  the  chess-men  clattering 
into  a  corner.  Instantly  the  little  man  leaned 
over  and  grasped  the  boy  by  the  collar,  and  with 
a  sudden  jerk  landed  him  across  his  own  fat 
knees.  Then,  while  the  prisoner  screamed  and 
struggled,  the  man  brought  his  hand  down  with 
a  slap  that  echoed  throughout  the  room,  and  con- 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

tinued  the  operation  until  Master  Kenneth  had 
received  a  sound  spanking. 

Then  he  let  the  boy  slip  to  the  floor,  from 
whence  he  arose  slowly  and  backed  toward  the 
door,  scowling  and  muttering  angrily. 

"You  broke  the  bargain,  and  I  kept  my 
word,"  said  Uncle  John,  calmly  taking  his  pipe 
from  his  pocket  and  filling  it.  "The  compact 
was  that  if  you  raised  a  rough-house,  like  you 
did  yesterday,  and  got  unruly,  that  I'd  give  you 
a  good  thrashing.  Now,  wasn't  it?" 

"Yes,"  acknowledged  the  boy. 

"Well,  that  blamed  temper  o'  your'n  got  away 
with  you  again,  and  you're  well  spanked  for  not 
heading  it  off.  Pick  up  the  board,  Ken,  my  lad, 
and  let's  try  it  again." 

The  boy  hesitated.  Then  he  looked  around 
and  saw  Lawyer  Watson,  who  had  stood  mo- 
tionless by  the  doorway,  and  with  a  cry  that 
was  half  a  sob  Kenneth  threw  himself  into  his 
old  friend's  arms  and  burst  into  a  flood  of  tears. 

Uncle  John  struck  a  match,  and  lighted  his 
pipe. 

I4-Q 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

"A  bargain's  a  bargain,"  he  observed,  com- 
posedly. 

"He  whipped  me!"  sobbed  the  boy.  "He 
whipped  me  like  a  child." 

"Your  own  fault,"  said  Uncle  John.  "You 
wanted  me  to  play  a  game  with  you,  and  I 
agreed,  providin'  you  behaved  yourself.  And 
you  didn't.  Now,  look  here.  Do  you  blame  me 
any?" 

"No,"  said  the  boy. 

"No  harm's  done,  is  there?" 

"No." 

"Then  stop  blubberin',  and  introduce  me  to 
your  friend,"  continued  Uncle  John.  "Name's 
Watson,  ain't  it." 

"Silas  Watson,  sir,  at  your  service,"  said  the 
lawyer,  smiling.  "And  this  must  be  John  Mer- 
rick,  who  I  understand  has  arrived  at  Elmhurst 
during  my  absence." 

"Exactly,"  said  Uncle  John,  and  the  two  men 
shook  hands  cordially. 

"Glad  to  welcome  you  to  Elmhurst,  sir,"  con- 
tinued the  lawyer.  "I've  known  it  ever  since  I 
was  a  boy,  when  it  belonged  to  my  dear  friend 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

Thomas  Bradley.  And  I  hope  you'll  love  it  as 
much  as  I  do,  when  you  know  it  better." 

"Bradley  must  have  been  a  fool  to  give  this 
place  to  Jane,"  said  Uncle  John,  reflectively. 

"He  was  in  love,  sir,"  observed  the  other,  and 
they  both  smiled.  Then  the  lawyer  turned  to 
Kenneth.  "How  are  things  going?"  he  asked. 
"Have  the  girls  bothered  you  much,  as  yet?" 

"No,"  said  the  boy.  "I  keep  out  of  their 
way." 

"That's  a  good  idea.  By  the  bye,  sir,"  turn- 
ing to  John  Merrick.  "I've  just  brought  you  a 
new  niece." 

"Patricia?" 

"She  prefers  to  be  called  Patsy.  A  queer 
little  thing;  half  Irish,  you  know." 

"And  half  Merrick.  That's  an  odd  combina- 
tion, but  the  Irish  may  be  able  to  stand  it,"  said 
Uncle  John.  "These  nieces  are  more  than  I  bar- 
gained for.  I  came  to  see  one  relative,  and  find 
three  more — and  all  women!" 

"I  think  you'll  like  Patsy,  anyhow.  And  so 
will  you,  Kenneth." 

The  boy  gave  an  indignant  roar. 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

"I  hate  all  girls!"  he  said. 

"You  won't  hate  this  one.  She's  as  wild  and 
impulsive  as  you  are,  but  better  natured.  She'll 
make  a  good  comrade,  although  she  may  box 
your  ears  once  in  a  while." 

The  boy  turned  away  sulkily,  and  began  pick- 
ing up  the  scattered  chess-men.  The  two  men 
walked  down  the  stair  and  strolled  together 
through  the  garden. 

"A  strange  boy,"  said  Uncle  John,  presently. 

"I'm  glad  to  see  you've  made  friends  with 
him,"  replied  the  lawyer,  earnestly.  "Until  now 
he  has  had  no  one  to  befriend  him  but  me,  and 
at  times  he's  so  unmanageable  that  it  worries  me 
dreadfully." 

"There's  considerable  character  about  the 
lad,"  said  John  Merrick;  "but  he's  been  spoiled 
and  allowed  to  grow  up  wild,  like  a  weed.  He's 
got  it  in  him  to  make  a  criminal  or  a  gentleman, 
whichever  way  his  nature  happens  to  develop." 

"He  ought  to  go  to  a  military  school,"  re- 
plied Lawyer  Watson.  "Proper  training  would 
make  a  man  of  Kenneth ;  but  I  can't  induce  Jane 
to  spend  the  money  on  him.  She  gives  him  food 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

and  clothing  and  lodging — all  of  the  simplest  de- 
scription— but  there  her  generosity  ends.  With 
thousands  of  dollars  lying  idle,  she  won't  assist 
the  only  nephew  of  Tom  Bradley  to  secure  a 
proper  education." 

"Jane's  queer,  too,"  said  that  lady's  brother, 
with  a  sigh.  "In  fact,  Mr.  Watson,  it's  a  queer 
world,  and  the  longer  I  live  in  it  the  queerer  I 
find  it.  Once  I  thought  it  would  be  a  good  idea 
to  regulate  things  myself,  and  run  the  world  as 
it  ought  to  be  run;  but  I  gave  it  up  long  ago. 
The  world's  a  stage,  they  say ;  but  the  show  ain't 
always  amusing,  by  a  long  chalk,  and  sometimes 
I  wish  I  didn't  have  a  reserved  seat." 


153 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


KENNETH  IS  FRIGHTENED. 

Lawyer  Watson,  unable  to  direct  events  at 
Elmhurst,  became  a  silent  spectator  of  the  little 
comedy  being  enacted  there,  and  never  regretted 
that,  as  Uncle  John  expressed  it,  he  "had  a  re- 
served seat  at  the  show." 

Jane  Merrick,  formerly  the  most  imperious 
and  irrascible  of  women,  had  become  wonder- 
fully reserved  since  the  arrival  of  her  nieces,  and 
was  evidently  making  a  sincere  effort  to  study 
their  diverse  characters.  Day  by  day  the  in- 
valid's health  was  failing  visibly.  She  had  no 
more  strokes  of  paralysis,  but  her  left  limb  did 
not  recover,  and  the  numbness  was  gradually 
creeping  upward  toward  her  heart. 

Perhaps  the  old  woman  appreciated  this  more 
fully  than  anyone  else.  At  any  event,  she  be- 

154 

,  *J  T^ 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

came  more  gentle  toward  Phibbs  and  Misery, 
who  mostly  attended  her,  and  showed  as  much 
consideration  as  possible  for  her  nieces  and  her 
brother.  Silas  Watson  she  kept  constantly  by 
her  side.  He  was  her  oldest  and  most  trusted 
friend,  and  the  only  differences  they  had  ever 
had  were  over  the  boy  Kenneth,  whom  she  stub- 
bornly refused  to  favor. 

Uncle  John  speedily  became  an  established 
fixture  at  the  place.  The  servants  grew  accus- 
tomed to  seeing  him  wander  aimlessly  about  the 
grounds,  his  pipe  always  in  his  mouth,  his  hands 
usually  in  his  pockets.  He  had  a  pleasant  word 
always  for  Donald  or  Oscar  or  James,  but  was 
not  prone  to  long  conversations.  Every  evening, 
when  he  appeared  at  dinner,  he  wore  his  soiled 
white  tie;  at  other  times  the  black  one  was  al- 
ways in  evidence;  but  other  than  this  his  dress 
underwent  no  change.  Even  Kenneth  came  to 
wonder  what  the  bundle  had  contained  that 
Uncle  John  brought  under  his  arm  to  Elmhurst. 

The  little  man  seemed  from  the  first  much 
attracted  by  his  three  nieces.  Notwithstanding 
Louise's  constant  snubs  and  Beth's  haughty  si- 

155 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

lence  he  was  sure  to  meet  them  when  they 
strolled  out  and  try  to  engage  them  in  conver- 
sation. It  was  hard  to  resist  his  simple 
good  nature,  and  the  girls  came  in  time  to  ac- 
cept him  as  an  inevitable  companion,  and  Louise 
mischievously  poked  fun  at  him  while  Beth  con- 
scientiously corrected  him  in  his  speech  and  en- 
deavored to  improve  his  manners.  All  this 
seemed  very  gratifying  to  Uncle  John.  He 
thanked  Beth  very  humbly  for  her  kind  atten- 
tion, and  laughed  with  Louise  when  she  ridi- 
culed his  pudgy,  round  form  and  wondered  if 
his  bristly  gray  hair  wouldn't  make  a  good  scrub- 
bing brush. 

Patsy  didn't  get  along  very  well  with  her 
cousins.  From  the  first,  when  Louise  recog- 
nized her,  with  well  assumed  surprise,  as  "the 
girl  who  had  been  sent  to  dress  her  hair,"  Pa- 
tricia  declared  that  their  stations  in  life  were  en- 
tirely different. 

"There's  no  use  of  our  getting  mixed  up,  just 
because  we're  cousins  and  all  visiting  Aunt 
Jane,"  she  said.  "One  of  you  will  get  her  money, 
for  I've  told  her  I  wouldn't  touch  a  penny  of  it, 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

and  she  has  told  me  I  wouldn't  get  the  chance. 
So  one  of  you  will  be  a  great  lady,  while  I  shall 
always  earn  my  own  living.  I'll  not  stay  long, 
anyhow;  so  just  forget  I'm  here,  and  I'll  amuse 
myself  and  try  not  to  bother  you." 

Both  Beth  and  Louise  considered  this  very 
sensible,  and  took  Patricia  at  her  word.  More- 
over, Phibbs  had  related  to  Beth,  whose  de- 
voted adherent  she  was,  all  of  the  conversation 
between  Aunt  Jane  and  Patricia,  from  which  the 
girls  learned  they  had  nothing  to  fear  from  their 
cousin's  interference.  So  they  let  her  go  her 
way,  and  the  three  only  met  at  the  state  dinners, 
which  Aunt  Jane  still  attended,  in  spite  of  her 
growing  weakness. 

Old  Silas  Watson,  interested  as  he  was  in  the 
result,  found  it  hard  to  decide,  after  ten  days, 
which  of  her  nieces  Jane  Merrick  most  favored. 
Personally  he  preferred  that  Beth  should  inherit, 
and  frankly  told  his  old  friend  that  the  girl  would 
make  the  best  mistress  of  Elmhurst.  Moreover, 
all  the  servants  sang  Beth's  praises,  from  Misery 
and  Phibbs  down  to  Oscar  and  Susan.  Of 
course  James  the  gardener  favored  no  one,  as 

157 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

the  numerous  strangers  at  Elmhurst  kept  him  in 
a  constant  state  of  irritation,  and  his  malady 
seemed  even  worse  than  usual.  He  avoided 
everyone  but  his  mistress,  and  although  his  work 
was  now  often  neglected  Miss  Merrick  made  no 
complaint.  James'  peculiarities  were  well  under- 
stood and  aroused  nothing  but  sympathy. 

Louise,  however,  had  played  her  cards  so 
well  that  all  Beth's  friends  were  powerless  to 
eject  the  elder  girl  from  Aunt  Jane's  esteem. 
Louise  had  not  only  returned  the  check  to  her 
aunt,-  but  she  came  often  to  sit  beside  her  and 
cheer  her  with  a  budget  of  new  social  gossip,  and 
no  one  could  arrange  the  pillows  so  comfortably 
or  stroke  the  tired  head  so  gently  as  Louise. 
And  then,  she  was  observing,  and  called  Aunt 
Jane's  attention  to  several  ways  of  curtailing  the 
household  expenditures,  which  the  woman's  ill- 
ness had  forced  her  to  neglect. 

So  Miss  Merrick  asked  Louise  to  look  over 
the  weekly  accounts,  and  in  this  way  came  to  de- 
pend upon  her  almost  as  much  as  she  did  upon 
Lawyer  Watson. 

As  for  Patsy,  she  made  no  attempt  whatever 

158 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

to  conciliate  her  aunt,  who  seldom  mentioned  her 
name  to  the  others  but  always  brightened  visibly 
when  the  girl  came  into  her  presence  with  her 
cheery  speeches  and  merry  laughter.  She  nevei 
stayed  long,  but  came  and  went,  like  a  streak  of 
sunshine,  whenever  the  fancy  seized  her;  and 
Silas  Watson,  shrewdly  looking  on,  saw  a  new 
light  in  Jane's  eyes  as  she  looked  after  her  way- 
ward, irresponsible  niece,  and  wondered  if  the 
bargain  between  them,  regarding  the  money, 
would  really  hold  good. 

It  was  all  an  incomprehensible  problem,  this 
matter  of  the  inheritance,  and  although  the  law- 
yer expected  daily  to  be  asked  to  draw  up  Jane 
Merrick's  will,  and  had,  indeed,  prepared  sev- 
eral forms,  to  be  used  in  case  of  emergency,  no 
word  had  yet  passed  her  lips  regarding  her  in- 
tentions. 

Kenneth's  life,  during  this  period,  was  one 
of  genuine  misery.  It  seemed  to  his  morbid 
fancy  that  whatever  path  he  might  take,  he  was 
sure  of  running  upon  one  or  more  of  those  de- 
testable girls  who  were  visiting  at  Elmhurst. 
Even  in  Donald's  harness-room  he  was  not  se- 

159 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

cure  from  interruption,  for  little  Patsy  was  fre- 
quently perched  upon  the  bench  there,  watching 
with  serious  eyes  old  Donald's  motions,  and 
laughing  joyously  when  in  his  embarrassment  he 
overturned  a  can  of  oil  or  buckled  the  wrong 
straps  together. 

Worse  than  all,  this  trying  creature  would 
saddle  Nora,  the  sorrel  mare,  and  dash  away 
through  the  lanes  like  a  torn-boy,  leaving  him 
only  old  Sam  to  ride — for  Donald  would  allow 
no  one  to  use  the  coach  horses.  Sam  was  tall 
and  boney,  and  had  an  unpleasant  gait,  so  that 
the  boy  felt  he  was  thoroughly  justified  in  hating 
the  girl  who  so  frequently  interfered  with  his 
whims. 

Louise  was  at  first  quite  interested  in  Ken- 
neth, and  resolved  to  force  him  to  talk  and  be- 
come more  sociable. 

She  caught  him  in  a  little  summer-house  one 
morning,  from  whence,  there  being  but  one  en- 
trance, he  could  not  escape,  and  at  once  entered 
into  conversation. 

"Ah,  you  are  Kenneth  Forbes,  I  suppose," 
she  began,  pleasantly.  "I  am  very  glad  to  make 

160 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

your  acquaintance.  I  am  Louise  Merrick,  Miss 
Merrick's  niece,  and  have  come  to  visit  her." 

The  boy  shrank  back  as  far  as  possible,  star- 
ing her  full  in  the  face,  but  made  no  reply. 

"You  needn't  be  afraid  of  me/'  continued 
Louise.  "I'm  very  fond  of  boys,  and  you  must 
be  nearly  my  own  age." 

Still  no  reply. 

"I  suppose  you  don't  know  much  of  girls 
and  are  rather  shy,"  she  persisted.  "But  I  want 
to  be  friendly  and  I  hope  you'll  let  me.  There's 
so  much  about  this  interesting  old  place  that  you 
can  tell  me,  having  lived  here  so  many  years. 
Come,  I'll  sit  beside  you  on  this  bench,  and  we'll 
have  a  good  talk  together." 

"Go  away!"  cried  the  boy,  hoarsely,  raising 
his  hands  as  if  to  ward  off  her  approach. 

Louise  looked  surprised  and  pained. 

"Why,  we  are  almost  cousins,"  she  said. 
"Cannot  we  become  friends  and  comrades?" 

With  a  sudden  bound  he  dashed  her  aside,  so 
rudely  that  she  almost  fell,  and  an  instant  later 
he  had  left  the  summer  house  and  disappeared 
among  the  hedges. 

161 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

Louise  laughed  at  her  own  discomfiture  and 
gave  up  the  attempt  to  make  the  boy's  acquaint- 
ance. 

"He's  a  regular  savage,"  she  told  Beth,  after- 
ward, "and  a  little  crazy,  too,  I  suspect." 

"Never  mind,"  said  Beth,  philosophically. 
"He's  only  a  boy,  and  doesn't  amount  to  any- 
thing, anyway.  After  Aunt  Jane  dies  he  will 
probably  go  somewhere  else  to  live.  Don't  let 
us  bother  about  him." 

Kenneth's  one  persistent  friend  was  Uncle 
John.  He  came  every  day  to  the  boy's  room  to 
play  chess  with  him,  and  after  that  one  day's 
punishment,  which,  singularly  enough,  Kenneth 
in  no  way  resented,  they  got  along  very  nicely 
together.  Uncle  John  was  a  shrewd  player  of 
the  difficult  game,  but  the  boy  was  quick  as  a 
flash  to  see  an  advantage  and  use  it  against  his 
opponent;  so  neither  was  ever  sure  of  winning 
and  the  interest  in  the  game  was  constantly  main- 
tained. At  evening  also  the  little  man  often 
came  to  sit  on  the  stair  outside  the  boy's  room 
and  smoke  his  pipe,  and  frequently  they  would 

162 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

sit  beneath  the  stars,  absorbed  in  thought  and 
without  exchanging"  a  single  word. 

Unfortunately,  Louise  and  Beth  soon  discov- 
ered the  boy's  secluded  retreat,  and  loved  to  tor- 
ment him  by  entering  his  own  bit  of  garden  and 
even  ascending  the  stairs  to  his  little  room.  He 
could  easily  escape  them  by  running  through  the 
numerous  upper  halls  of  the  mansion;  but  here 
he  was  liable  to  meet  others,  and  his  especial 
dread  was  encountering  old  Miiss  Merrick.  So 
he  conceived  a  plan  for  avoiding  the  girls  in  an- 
other way. 

In  the  hallway  of  the  left  wing,  near  his  door, 
was  a  small  ladder  leading  to  the  second  story 
roof,  and  a  dozen  feet  from  the  edge  of  the  roof 
stood  an  old  oak  tree,  on  the  further  side  of  a 
tall  hedge.  Kenneth  managed  to  carry  a  plank 
to  the  roof,  where,  after  several  attempts,  he 
succeeded  in  dropping  one  end  into  a  crotch  of 
the  oak,  thus  connecting  the  edge  of  the  roof 
with  the  tree  by  means  of  the  narrow  plank. 
After  this,  at  first  sight  of  the  girls  in  his  end  of 
the  garden,  he  fled  to  the  roof,  ran  across  the 

163 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

improvised  bridge,  "shinned"  down  the  tree  and, 
hidden  by  the  hedge,  made  good  his  escape. 

The  girls  discovered  this  plan,  and  were 
wicked  enough  to  surprise  the  boy  often  and 
force  him  to  cross  the  dizzy  plank  to  the  tree. 
Having  frightened  him  away  they  would  laugh 
and  stroll  on,  highly  amused  at  the  evident  fear 
they  aroused  in  the  only  boy  about  the  place. 

Patricia,  who  was  not  in  the  other  girls'  se- 
cret, knew  nothing  of  this  little  comedy  and 
really  disturbed  Kenneth  least  of  the  three.  But 
he  seemed  to  avoid  her  as  much  as  he  did  the 
others. 

She  sooned  learned  from  Oscar  that  the  boy 
loved  to  ride  as  well  as  she  did,  and  once  or 
twice  she  met  him  on  a  lonely  road  perched  on 
top  of  big  Sam.  This  led  her  to  suspect  she  had 
thoughtlessly  deprived  him  of  his  regular  mount. 
So  one  morning  she  said  to  the  groom : 

"Doesn't  Kenneth  usually  ride  Nora?" 

"Yes,  Miss,"  answered  the  man. 

"Then  I'd  better  take  Sam  this  morning,"  she 
decided. 

But  the  groom  demurred. 

164 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

"You  won't  like  Sam,  Miss,"  he  said,  "and 
he  gets  ugly  at  times  and  acts  bad.  Master  Ken- 
neth won't  use  Nora  today,  I'm  sure." 

She  hesitated. 

"I  think  I'll  ask  him,"  said  she,  after  a  mo- 
ment, and  turned  away  into  the  garden,  anxious 
to  have  this  plausible  opportunity  to  speak  to  the 
lonely  boy. 


CHAPTER  XV. 


PATSY  MEETS  WITH  AN  ACCIDENT. 

"Get  out  of  here!"  shouted  the  boy,  angrily, 
as  Patsy  appeared  at  the  foot  of  his  stair. 

"I  won't!"  she  answered  indignantly.  "I've 
come  to  speak  to  you  about  the  mare,  and  you'll 
just  treat  me  decently  or  I'll  know  the  reason 
why!" 

But  he  didn't  wait  to  hear  this  explanation. 
He  saw  her  advancing  up  the  stairs,  and  fled  in 
his  usual  hasty  manner  to  the  hall  and  up  the  lad- 
der to  the  roof. 

Patsy  stepped  back  into  the  garden,  vexed 
at  his  flight,  and  the  next  instant  she  saw  him  ap- 
pear upon  the  sloping  roof  and  start  to  run  down 
the  plank. 

Even  as  she  looked  the  boy  slipped,  fell  head- 
long, and  slid  swiftly  downward.  In  a  moment 

166 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

he  was  over  the  edge,  clutching  wildly  at  the 
plank,  which  was  a  foot  or  more  beyond  his 
reach.  Headforemost  he  dove  into  space,  but  the 
clutching  hand  found  something  at  last — the  pro- 
jecting hook  of  an  old  eaves-trough  that  had  long 
since  been  removed — and  to  this  he  clung  fast  in 
spite  of  the  jerk  of  his  arrested  body,  which 
threatened  to  tear  away  his  grip. 

But  his  plight  was  desperate,  nevertheless. 
He  was  dangling  in  space,  the  hard  pavement 
thirty  feet  below  him,  with  no  possible  way  of 
pulling  himself  up  to  the  roof  again.  And  the 
hook  was  so  small  that  there  was  no  place  for 
his  other  hand.  The  only  way  he  could  cling  to 
it  at  all  was  to  grasp  his  wrist  with  the  free  hand 
as  a  partial  relief  from  the  strain  upon  his  arm. 
"Hold  fast!"  called  Patsy.  "I'm  coming." 
She  sprang  up  the  steps,  through  the  boy's 
room  and  into  the  hallway.  There  she  quickly 
perceived  the  ladder,  and  mounted  it  to  the  roof. 
Taking  in  the  situation  at  a  glance  she  ran  with 
steady  steps  down  the  sloping  roof  to  where  the 
plank  lay,  and  stepped  out  upon  it  far  enough  to 

167 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

see  the  boy  dangling  beside  her.  Then  she  de- 
cided instantly  what  to  do. 

"Hang  on!"  she  called,  and  returning  to  the 
roof  dragged  the  end  of  the  plank  to  a  position 
directly  over  the  hook.  Then  she  lay  flat  upon 
it,  an  arm  on  either  side  of  the  plank,  and  reach- 
ing down  seized  one  of  the  boy's  wrists  firmly  in 
each  hand. 

"Now,  then,"  said  she,  "let  go  the  hook." 

"If  I  do,"  answered  the  boy,  his  white  face 
upturned  to  hers,  "I'll  drag  you  down  with  me." 

"No  you  won't.  I'm  very  strong,  and  I'm 
suie  I  can  save  you.  Let  go,"  she  said,  im- 
peratively. 

"I'm  not  afraid  to  die,"  replied  the  boy,  his 
voice  full  of  bitterness.  "Take  away  your  hands, 
and  I'll  drop." 

But  Patsy  gripped  him  more  firmly  than  ever. 

"Don't  be  a  fool!"  she  cried.  "There's  no 
danger  whatever,  if  you  do  just  what  I  tell  you." 

His  eyes  met  hers  in  a  mute  appeal ;  but  sud- 
denly he  gained  confidence,  and  resolved  to  trust 
her.  In  any  event,  he  could  not  cling  to  the  hook 
much  longer. 

1 68 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

He  released  his  hold,  and  swung-  in  mid-air 
just  beneath  the  plank,  where  the  girl  lay  hold- 
ing him  by  his  wrists. 

"Now,  then,"  she  said,  quietly,  "when  I  lift 
you  up,  grab  the  edges  of  the  plank." 

Patrica's  strength  was  equal  to  her  courage, 
and  under  the  excitement  of  that  desperate  mo- 
ment she  did  what  few  other  girls  of  her  size 
could  ever  have  accomplished.  She  drew  the  boy 
up  until  his  eager  hands  caught  the  edges  of  the 
plank,  and  gripped  it  firmly.  Then  she  released 
him  and  crept  a  little  back  toward  the  roof. 

"Now  swing  your  legs  up  and  you're  safe!" 
she  cried. 

He  tried  to  obey,  but  his  strength  was  failing 
him,  and  he  could  do  no  more  than  touch  the 
plank  with  his  toes. 

"Once  more,"  called  the  girl. 

This  time  she  caught  his  feet  as  they  swung 
upward,  and  drew  his  legs  around  the  plank. 

"Can  you  climb  up,  now?"  she  asked,  anx- 
iously. 

"I'll  try,"  he  panted. 

The  plank  upon  which  this  little  tragedy  was 

169 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

being  enacted  was  in  full  view  of  the  small  garden 
where  Aunt  Jane  loved  to  sit  in  her  chair  and 
enjoy  the  flowers  and  the  sunshine.  She  could 
not  see  Kenneth's  wing  at  all,  but  she  could  see 
the  elevated  plank  leading  from  the  roof  to  the 
oak  tree,  and  for  several  days  had  been  puzzled 
by  its  appearance  and  wondered  for  what  pur- 
pose it  was  there. 

Today,  as  she  sat  talking  with  John  Merrick 
and  Silas  Watson,  she  suddenly  gave  a  cry  of 
surprise,  and  following  her  eyes  the  two  men  saw 
Kenneth  step  out  upon  the  roof,  fall,  and  slide 
over  the  edge.  For  a  moment  all  three  remained 
motionless,  seized  with  fear  and  consternation, 
and  then  they  saw  Patsy  appear  and  run  down 
to  the  plank. 

This  they  watched  her  move,  and  saw  her  lie 
down  upon  it. 

"She's  trying  to  save  him — he  must  be 
caught  somewhere!"  cried  the  lawyer,  and  both 
men  started  at  full  speed  to  reach  the  spot  by  the 
round-about  paths  through  the  garden. 

Aunt  Jane  sat  still  and  watched.  Suddenly 
the  form  of  the  boy  swung  into  view  beneath  the 

170 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

plank,  dangling  from  the  girl's  outstretched 
arms.  The  woman  caught  her  breath,  wondering 
what  would  happen  next.  Patricia  drew  him  up, 
until  he  seized  the  plank  with  his  hands.  Then 
the  girl  crept  back  a  little,  and  as  the  boy  swung 
his  feet  upward  she  caught  them  and  twined  his 
legs  over  the  plank. 

And  now  came  the  supreme  struggle.  The 
girl  could  do  little  more  to  help  him.  He  must 
manage  to  clamber  upon  the  top  of  the  plank 
himself. 

Ordinarily  Kenneth  might  have  done  this 
easily ;  but  now  his  nerves  were  all  unstrung,  and 
he  was  half  exhausted  by  the  strain  of  the  past 
few  minutes.  Almost  he  did  it;  but  not  quite. 
The  next  effort  would  be  even  weaker.  But  now 
Patricia  walked  out  upon  the  plank  and  Aunt 
Jane  saw  her  lean  down,  grasp  the  boy's  collar 
and  drag  him  into  a  position  of  safety. 

"Bravely  done!"  she  murmured,  but  even  as 
the  sound  came  from  her  lips  the  girl  upon  the 
bridge  seemed  in  the  exertion  of  the  struggle  to 
lose  her  balance.  She  threw  out  her  arms, 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

leaned  sidewise,  and  then  fell  headlong  into  the 
chasm  and  disappeared  from  view. 

Aunt  Jane's  agonized  scream  brought  Phibbs 
running  to  her  side.  At  a  glance  she  saw  that 
her  mistress  had  fainted,  and  looking  hastily 
around  to  discover  the  cause  she  observed  the 
boy  crawl  slowly  across  the  plank,  reach  the  tree, 
and  slide  down  its  trunk  to  pass  out  of  view  be- 
hind the  high  hedge. 

"Drat  the  boy!"  growled  the  old  servant, 
angrily,  "he'll  be  the  death  of  Miss  Jane,  yet." 


172 


CHAPTER  XVI. 


GOOD    RESULTS. 

Uncle  John  could  not  run  so  swiftly  as  the 
lawyer,  but  he  broke  through  a  gap  in  the  hedge 
and  arrived  at  a  point  just  beneath  the  plank  at 
the  same  time  that  Silas  Watson  did. 

One  glance  showed  them  the  boy  safely 
perched  on  top  of  the  plank,  but  the  girl  was 
bending  backward.  She  threw  out  her  arms  in 
a  vain  endeavor  to  save  herself,  and  with  a  low 
cry  toppled  and  plunged  swiftly  toward  the 
ground. 

There  was  little  time  for  the  men  to  consider 
their  actions.  Involuntarily  they  tried  to  catch 
Patricia,  whose  body  struck  them  sharply,  fell- 
ing them  to  the  ground,  and  then  bounded 
against  the  hedge  and  back  to  the  pavement. 

When,   half  dazed,   they  scrambled   to  their 

173 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

feet,  the  girl  lay  motionless  before  them,  a  stream 
of  red  blood  welling  from  a  deep  cut  in  her  for- 
head,  her  eyes  closed  as  if  in  sleep. 

A  moment  more  and  the  boy  was  kneeling 
beside  her,  striving  to  stay  the  bleeding  with  his 
handkerchief. 

"Do  something!  For  God's  sake  try  to  do 
something,"  he  wailed,  piteously.  "Can't  you 
see  she's  killed  herself  to  save  me?" 

Uncle  John  knelt  down  and  took  the  still 
form  in  his  arms. 

"Quiet,  my  lad,"  he  said.  "She  isn't  dead. 
Get  Nora,  and  fetch  the  doctor  as  soon  as  you 
can." 

The  boy  was  gone  instantly,  his  agony  re- 
lieved by  the  chance  of  action,  and  followed  by 
the  lawyer,  Uncle  John  carried  his  niece  to  the 
rose  chamber  and  laid  her  upon  her  white  bed. 

Misery  met  them,  then,  and  following  her 
came  Louise  and  Beth,  full  of  horror  and  pity  for 
the  victim  of  the  dreadful  accident. 

Jane  Merrick  had  promptly  recovered  con- 
sciousness, for  fainting  spells  were  foreign  to  her 

174 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

nature.  Her  first  words  to  Phibbs,  who  was 
bending  over  her,  were: 

"Is  she  dead?" 

"Who,  Miss  Jane?" 

"Patricia." 

"I  don't  know,  Miss  Jane.  Why  should  she 
be  dead?" 

"Run,  you  idiot!  Run  at  once  and  find  out. 
Ask  my  brother — ask  anyone — if  Patricia  is 
dead!" 

And  so  Phibbs  came  to  the  rose  chamber  and 
found  the  little  group  bending  over  the  girl's  un- 
conscious form. 

"Is  she  dead,  sir?  Miss  Jane  wants  to 
know,"  said  the  old  servant,  in  awe-struck  tones. 

"No,"  answered  Uncle  John,  gravely.  "She 
isn't  dead,  I'm  sure;  but  I  can't  tell  how  badly 
she  is  hurt.  One  of  her  legs — the  right  one — is 
broken,  I  know,  for  I  felt  it  as  I  carried  the  child 
in  my  arms;  but  we  must  wait  until  the  doctor 
comes  before  I  can  tell  more." 

Misery  was  something  of  a  nurse,  it  seemed, 
and  with  the  assistance  of  Louise,  who  proved 
most  helpful  in  the  emergency,  she  bathed  the 

175 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

wound  in  the  girl's  forehead  and  bandaged  it  as 
well  as  she  was  able.  Between  them  the  women 
also  removed  Patricia's  clothing  and  got  her  into 
bed,  where  she  lay  white  and  still  unconscious, 
but  breathing  so  softly  that  they  knew  she  was 
yet  alive. 

The  doctor  was  not  long  in  arriving,  for 
Kenneth  forced  him  to  leap  upon  Nora's  back 
and  race  away  to  Elmhurst,  while  the  boy  fol- 
lowed as  swiftly  as  he  could  on  the  doctor's 
sober  cotf. 

Dr.  Eliel  was  only  a  country  practitioner,  but 
his  varied  experiences  through  many  years  had 
given  him  a  practical  knowledge  of  surgery,  and 
after  a  careful  examination  of  Patricia's  injuries 
he  was  able  to  declare  that  she  would  make  a 
fine  recovery. 

"Her  leg  is  fractured,  and  she's  badly 
bruised,"  he  reported  to  Aunt  Jane,  who  sent  for 
him  as  soon  as  he  could  leave  the  sick  room.  "But 
I  do  not  think  she  has  suffered  any  internal  in- 
juries, and  the  wound  on  her  forehead  is  a  mere 
nothing.  So,  with  good  care,  I  expect  the  young 
lady  to  get  along  nicely." 

176 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

"Do  everything  you  can  for  her,"  said  the 
woman,  earnestly.  "You  shall  be  well  paid,  Dr. 
Eliel." 

Before  Patricia  recovered  her  senses  the  doc- 
tor had  sewn  up  her  forehead  and  set  the  frac- 
tured limb,  so  that  she  suffered  little  pain  from 
the  first. 

Louise  and  Beth  hovered  over  her  constantly, 
ministering  to  every  possible  want  and  filled  with 
tenderest  sympathy  for  their  injured  cousin.  The 
accident  seemed  to  draw  them  out  of  their  selfish- 
ness and  petty  intrigues  and  discovered  in  them 
the  true  womanly  qualities  that  had  lurked  be- 
neath the  surface. 

Patsy  was  not  allowed  to  talk,  but  she  smiled 
gratefully  at  her  cousins,  and  the  three  girls 
seemed  suddenly  drawn  nearer  together  than  any 
of  them  would  have  thought  possible  a  few  hours 
before. 

The  boy  paced  constantly  up  and  down  out- 
side Patricia's  door,  begging  everyone  who  left 
the  room,  for  news  of  the  girl's  condition.  All 
his  reserve  and  fear  of  women  seemed  to  have 
melted  away  as  if  by  magic.  Even  Beth  and 

177 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

Louise  were  questioned  eagerly,  and  they,  hav- 
ing learned  the  story  of  Patricia's  brave  rescue 
of  the  boy,  were  very  gentle  with  him  and  took 
pains  not  to  frighten  or  offend  him. 

Toward  evening  Louise  asked  Patricia  if  she 
would  see  Kenneth  for  a  moment,  and  the  girl 
nodded  a  ready  assent. 

He  came  in  awkward  and  trembling,  glanc- 
ing fearfully  at  the  bandaged  forehead  and  the 
still  white  face.  But  Patricia  managed  to  smile 
reassuringly,  and  held  out  a  little  hand  for  him 
to  take.  The  boy  grasped  it  in  both  his  own,  and 
held  it  for  several  minutes  while  he  stood  mo- 
tionless beside  her,  his  wide  eyes  fixed  intently 
upon  her  own. 

Then  Louise  sent  him  away,  and  he  went  to 
his  room  and  wept  profusely,  and  then  quieted 
down  into  a  sort  of  dull  stupor. 

The  next  morning  Uncle  John  dragged  him 
away  from  Patricia's  door  and  forced  him  to 
play  chess.  The  boy  lost  every  game,  being  in- 
attentive and  absorbed  in  thought,  until  finally 
Uncle  John  gave  up  the  attempt  to  amuse  him 
and  settled  himself  on  the  top  stair  for  a  quiet 

178 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

smoke.  The  boy  turned  to  the  table,  and  took  a 
sheet  of  paper  from  the  drawer  .  For  an  hour, 
perhaps,  neither  of  these  curious  friends  spoke  a 
word,  but  at  the  end  of  that  time  Uncle  John 
arose  and  knocked  the  ashes  from  his  pipe.  Ken- 
neth did  not  notice  him.  The  man  approached 
the  table  and  looked  over  the  boy's  shoulder,  ut- 
tering an  exclamation  of  surprise.  Upon  the 
paper  appeared  a  cleverly  drawn  pencil  sketch 
of  Patricia  lying  in  her  bed,  a  faint  smile  upon 
her  face  and  her  big  blue  eyes  turned  pleasantly 
upon  a  shadowy  form  that  stood  beside  her  hold- 
ing her  hand.  The  likeness  was  admirable,  and 
if  there  were  faults  in  the  perspective  and  compo- 
sition Uncle  John  did  not  recognize  them. 

He  gave  a  low  whistle  and  turned  thought- 
fully away,  and  the  young  artist  was  so  absorbed 
that  he  did  not  even  look  up. 

Strolling  away  to  the  stables,  Uncle  John  met 
old  Donald,  who  enquired: 

"How  is  Miss  Patsy  this  morning,  sir?"  It 
was  the  name  she  had  given,  and  preferred  to  be 
called  by. 

"She's  doing  finely,"  said  Uncle  John. 

179 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

"A  brave  girl,  sir !" 

"Yes,  Donald." 

"And  the  boy?" 

"Why,  he  seems  changed,  in  some  way,  Don- 
ald. Not  so  nervous  and  wild  as  usual,  you 
know.  I've  just  left  him  drawing  a  picture. 
Curious.  A  good  picture,  too." 

"Ah,  he  can  do  that,  sir,  as  well  as  a  real 
artist." 

"Have  you  known  him  to  draw,  before  this  ?" 

"Why,  he's  always  at  it,  sir,  in  his  quieter 
moods.  I've  got  a  rare  good  likeness  o'  myself, 
as  he  did  long  ago,  in  the  harness-room." 

"May  I  see  it?" 

"With  pleasure,  sir." 

Donald  led  the  way  to  the  harness-room,  and 
took  from  the  cupboard  the  precious  board  he  had 
so  carefully  preserved. ' 

Uncle  John  glanced  at  it  and  laughed  aloud. 
He  could  well  appreciate  the  humor  of  the  sketch, 
which  Donald  never  had  understood,  and  the 
caricature  was  as  clever  as  it  was  amusing.  He 
handed  the  treasure  back  to  Donald  and  went 
away  even  more  thoughtful  than  before. 

1 80 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

A  few  days  later  a  large  package  arrived  at 
Elmhurst  addressed  to  Kenneth  Forbes,  and  Os- 
car carried  it  at  once  to  the  boy's  room,  who  sat 
for  an  hour  looking  at  it  in  silent  amazement. 
Then  he  carefully  unwrapped  it,  and  found  it  to 
contain  a  portable  easel,  a  quantity  of  canvas  and 
drawing-paper,  paints  and  oils  of  every  descrip- 
tion (mostly  all  unknown  to  him)  and  pencils, 
brushes  and  water  colors  in  profusion. 

Kenneth's  heart  bounded  with  joy.  Here  was 
wealth,  indeed,  greater  than  he  had  ever  hoped 
for.  He  puzzled  his  brain  for  weeks  to  discover 
how  this  fairy  gift  had  ever  come  to  him,  but 
he  was  happier  in  its  possession  than  he  had  .ever 
been  before  in  all  his  life. 

Patricia  improved  rapidly.  Had  it  not  been 
for  the  broken  leg  she  would  have  been  out  of  the 
house  in  a  week,  as  good  as  ever;  but  broken 
limbs  take  time  to  heal,  and  Dr.  Eliel  would  not 
permit  the  girl  to  leave  her  bed  until  ten  days  had 
passed. 

Meantime  everyone  delighted  to  attend  her. 
Louise  and  Beth  sat  with  her  for  hours,  reading 
or  working,  for  the  rose  chamber  was  cheery 

181 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

and  pleasant,  and  its  big  windows  opened  upon 
the  prettiest  part  of  the  gardens.  The  two  girls 
were  even  yet  suspicious  of  one  another,  each 
striving  to  win  an  advantage  with  Aunt  Jane; 
but  neither  had  the  slightest  fear  that  Patricia 
would  ever  interfere  with  their  plans.  So  they 
allowed  their  natural  inclinations  to  pet  and  ad- 
mire the  heroine  of  the  hour  full  sway,  and  Patsy 
responded  so  sweetly  and  frankly  to  their  ad- 
vances that  they  came  to  love  her  dearly,  and 
wondered  why  they  had  not  discovered  from  the 
first  how  lovable  their  Irish  cousin  could  be. 

Kenneth,  also  came  daily  to  the  sick  room  for 
a  visit,  and  Patsy  had  a  way  of  drawing  the  boy 
out  and  making  him  talk  that  was  really  irresist- 
ible. After  his  fairy  gift  arrived  he  could  not 
help  telling  the  girls  all  about  it,  and  then  he 
brought  the  things  down  and  displayed  them,  and 
promised  Patsy  he  would  make  a  picture  of  the 
garden  for  her. 

Then,  after  the  girl  got  better,  he  brought  his 
easel  down  to  her  room,  where  she  could  watch 
him  work,  and  began  upon  the  picture,  while 

182 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

the  cousins  joined  him  in  speculations  as  to  who 
the  mysterious  donor  could  be. 

"At  first,"  said  Kenneth,  "I  thought  it  was 
Mr.  Watson,  for  he's  alway  been  very  good  to 
me ;  but  he  says  he  knows  nothing  about  it.  Then 
I  though  it  might  be  Uncle  John ;  but  Uncle  John 
is  too  poor  to  afford  such  an  expensive  present." 

"I  don't  believe  he  has  a  penny  in  the  world," 
said  Louise,  who  sat  by  with  some  needle-work. 

"All  he  owns,"  remarked  Beth,  with  a  laugh, 
"is  an  extra  necktie,  slightly  damaged." 

"But  he's  a  dear  old  man,"  said  Patsy,  loy- 
ally, "and  I'm  sure  he  would  have  given  all  those 
things  to  Kenneth  had  he  been  able." 

"Then  who  was  it?"  asked  the  boy. 

"Why,  Aunt  Jane,  to  be  sure,"  declared 
Patsy. 

The  boy  scowled,  and  shook  his  head. 

"She  wouldn't  do  anything  to  please  me,  even 
to  save  her  life,"  he  growled.  "She  hates  me, 
I  know  that  well  enough." 

"Oh,  no;  I'm  sure  she  doesn't,"  said  Patsy. 
"Aunt  Jane  has  a  heap  of  good  in  her ;  but  you've 
got  to  dig  for  it,  like  you  do  for  gold.  'Twould 

183 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

be  just  like  her  to  make  you  this  present  and  keep 
it  a  secret." 

"If  she  really  did  it,"  replied  the  boy,  slowly, 
"and  it  seems  as  if  she  is  the  only  one  I  know 
who  could  afford  such  a  gift,  it  stands  to  reason 
that  either  Uncle  John  or  Mr.  Watson  asked  her 
to,  and  she  did  it  to  please  them.  I've  lived  here 
for  years,  and  she  has  never  spoken  a  kindly  word 
to  me  or  done  me  a  kindly  act.  It  isn't  likely 
she'd  begin  now,  is  it?" 

Unable  to  make  a  reassuring  reply,  Patsy  re- 
mained silent,  and  the  boy  went  on  with  his  work. 
He  first  outlined  the  picture  in  pencil,  and  then 
filled  it  in  with  water  color.  They  all  expressed 
admiration  for  the  drawing,  but  the  color  effect 
was  so  horrible  that  even  Patsy  found  no  words 
to  praise  it,  and  the  boy  in  a  fit  of  sudden  anger 
tore  the  thing  to  shreds  and  so  destroyed  it. 

"But  I  must  have  my  picture,  anyhow,"  said 
the  girl.  "Make  it  in  pen  and  ink  or  pencil,  Ken. 
and  I'm  sure  it  will  be  beautiful." 

"You  need  instruction,  to  do  water  color 
properly,"  suggested  Louise. 

"Then  I  can  never  do  it,"  he  replied,  bitterly. 

184 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

But  he  adopted  Patsy's  suggestion  and  sketched 
the  garden  very  prettily  in  pen  and  ink.  By  the 
time  the  second  picture  was  completed  Patsy  had 
received  permission  to  leave  her  room,  which  she 
did  in  Aunt  Jane's  second-best  wheel  chair. 

Her  first  trip  was  to  Aunt  Jane's  own  pri- 
vate garden,  where  the  invalid,  who  had  not 
seen  her  niece  since  the  accident,  had  asked  her 
to  come. 

Patsy  wanted  Kenneth  to  wheel  her,  but  the 
boy,  with  a  touch  of  his  old  surly  demeanor, 
promptly  refused  to  meet  Jane  Merrick  face  to 
face.  So  Beth  wheeled  the  chair  and  Louise 
walked  by  Patsy's  side,  and  soon  the  three  nieces 
reached  their  aunt's  retreat. 

Aunt  Jane  was  not  in  an  especially  amiable 
mood. 

"Well,  girl,  how  do  you  like  being  a  fool?" 
she  demanded,  as  Patsy's  chair  came  to  a  stand 
just  opposite  her  own. 

"It  feels  so  natural  that  I  don't  mind  it,"  re- 
plied Patsy,  laughing. 

"You  might  have  killed  yourself,  and  all  for 
nothing,"  continued  the  old  woman,  querulously. 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

Patsy  looked  at  her  pityingly.  Her  aunt's 
face  had  aged  greatly  in  the  two  weeks,  and  the 
thin  gray  hair  seemed  now  almost  white. 

"Are  you  feeling  better,  dear?"  asked  the 
girl. 

"I  shall  never  be  better,"  said  Jane  Merrick, 
sternly.  "The  end  is  not  far  off  now." 

"Oh,  I'm  sorry  to  hear  you  say  that!"  said 
Patsy;  "but  I  hope  it  is  not  true.  Why,  here 
are  we  four  newly  found  relations  all  begining 
to  get  acquainted,  and  to  love  one  another,  and 
we  can't  have  our  little  party  broken  up,  auntie 
dear." 

"Five  of  us — five  relations,"  cried  Uncle 
John,  coming  around  the  corner  of  the  hedge. 
"Don't  I  count,  Patsy,  you  rogue?  Why  you're 
looking  as  bright  and  as  bonny  as  can  be.  I 
wouldn't  be  surprised  if  you  could  toddle." 

"Not  yet,"  she  answered,  cheerfully.  "But 
I'm  doing  finely,  Uncle  John,  and  it  won't  be 
long  before  I  can  get  about  as  well  as  ever." 

"And  to  think,"  said  Aunt  Jane,  bitterly, 
"that  all  this  trouble  was  caused  by  that  miser- 

186 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

able  boy !  If  I  knew  where  to  send  him  he'd  not 
stay  at  Elmhurst  a  day  longer." 

"Why,  he's  my  best  friend,  aunt,"  announced 
Patsy,  quietly.  "I  don't  think  I  could  be  happy 
at  Elmhurst  without  Kenneth." 

"He  has  quite  reformed,"  said  Louise,  "and 
seems  like  a  very  nice  boy." 

"He's  a  little  queer,  yet,  at  times,"  added 
Beth,  "but  not  a  bit  rude,  as  he  used  to  be." 

Aunt  Jane  looked  from  one  to  the  other  in 
amazement.  No  one  had  spoken  so  kindly  of  the 
boy  before  in  years.  And  Uncle  John,  with  a 
thoughtful  look  on  his  face,  said  slowly: 

"The  fact  is,  Jane,  you've  never  given  the 
boy  a  chance.  On  the  contrary,  you  nearly 
ruined  him  by  making  a  hermit  of  him  and  giv- 
ing him  no  schooling  to  speak  of  and  no  society 
except  that  of  servants.  He  was  as  wild  as  a 
hawk  when  I  first  came,  but  these  girls  are  just 
the  sort  of  companions  he  needs,  to  soften  him 
and  make  him  a  man.  I've  no  doubt  he'll  come 
out  all  right,  in  the  end." 

"Perhaps  you'd  like  to  adopt  him  yourself, 

187 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

John,"  sneered  the  woman,  furious  at  this  praise 
of  the  one  person  she  so  greatly  disliked. 

Her  brother  drew  his  hands  from  his  pockets, 
looked  around  in  a  helpless  and  embarrassed  way, 
and  then  tried  fumblingly  to  fill  his  pipe. 

"I  ain't  in  the  adopting  business,  Jane,"  he 
answered  meekly.  "And  if  I  was,"  with  a 
quaint  smile,  "I'd  adopt  one  or  two  of  these 
nieces  o'  mine,  instead  of  Tom  Bradley's  nephew. 
If  Bradley  hadn't  seen  you,  Jane,  and  loved  your 
pretty  face  when  you  were  young,  Kenneth  For- 
bes would  now  be  the  owner  of  Elmhurst.  Did 
you  ever  think  of  that?" 

Did  she  ever  think  of  it?  Why,  it  was  this 
very  fact  that  made  the  boy  odious  to  her.  The 
woman  grew  white  with  rage. 

"John  Merrick,  leave  my  presence." 

"All  right,  Jane/' 

He  stopped  to  light  his  pipe,  and  then  slowly 
walked  away,  leaving  an  embarrassed  group  be- 
hind him. 

Patsy,  however,  was  equal  to  the  occasion. 
She  began  at  once  to  chatter  about  Dr.  Eliel,  and 
the  scar  that  would  always  show  on  her  forehead  ; 

188 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES, 

and  how  surprised  the  Major,  her  father,  would 
be  when  he  returned  from  the  visit  to  his  colonel 
and  found  his  daughter  had  been  through  the 
wars  herself,  and  bore  the  evidence  of  honorable 
wounds.  Louise  gracefully  assisted  her  cousin 
to  draw  Aunt  Jane  into  a  more  genial  mood,  and 
between  them  they  presently  succeeded.  The  in- 
terview that  had  begun  so  unfortunately  ended 
quite  pleasantly,  and  when  Patricia  returned  to 
her  room  her  aunt  bade  her  adieu  almost  tend- 
erly. 

'In  fact,"  said  Louise  to  Beth,  in  the  privacy 
of  the  latter's  chamber,  "I'm  getting  rather  wor- 
ried over  Aunt  Jane's  evident  weakness  for  our 
Cousin  Patsy.  Once  or  twice  today  I  caught  a 
look  in  her  eye  when  she  looked  at  Patsy  that 
she  has  never  given  either  you  or  me.  The  Irish 
girl  may  get  the  money  yet." 

"Nonsense,"  said  Beth.  "She  has  said  she 
wouldn't  accept  a  penny  of  it,  and  I'm  positive 
she'll  keep  her  word." 


1 80 


CHAPTER  XVII. 


AUNT   JANE  S   HEIRESS. 

"Silas,"  said  Aunt  Jane  to  her  lawyer,  the 
next  morning  after  her  interview  with  Patsy, 
"I'm  ready  to  have  you  draw  up  my  will." 

Mr.  Watson  gave  a  start  of  astonishment.  In 
his  own  mind  he  had  arrived  at  the  conclusion 
that  the  will  would  never  be  executed,  and  to  have 
Miss  Merrick  thus  suddenly  declare  her  decision 
was  enough  to  startle  even  the  lawyer's  natural 
reserve. 

"Very  well,  Jane,"  he  said,  briefly. 

They  were  alone  in  the  invalid's  morning 
room,  Phibbs  having  been  asked  to  retire. 

"There  is  no  use  disguising  the  fact,  Silas, 
that  I  grow  weaker  every  day,  and  the  numbness 
is  creeping  nearer  and  nearer  to  my  heart,"  said 
Miss  Merrick,  in  her  usual  even  tones.  "It  is 

190 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

folly  for  me  to  trifle  with  these  few  days  of  grace 
yet  allowed  me,  and  I  have  fully  made  up  my 
mind  as  to  the  disposition  of  my  property." 

"Yes?"  he  said,  enquiringly,  and  drew  from 
his  pocket  a  pencil  and  paper. 

"I  shall  leave  to  my  niece  Louise  five  thous- 
and dollars." 

"Yes,  Jane,"  jotting  down  the  memorandum. 

"And  to  Elizabeth  a  like  sum." 

The  lawyer  seemed  disappointed.  He  tapped 
the  pencil  against  his  teeth,  musingly,  for  a  mo- 
ment, and  then  wrote  down  the  amount. 

"Also  to  my  brother,  John  Merrick,  the  sum 
of  five  thousand  dollars,"  she  resumed. 

"To  your  brother?" 

"Yes.  That  should  be  enough  to  take  care 
of  him  as  long  as  he  lives.  He  seems  quite  sim- 
pie  in  his  tastes,  and  he  is  an  old  man." 

The  lawyer  wrote  it  down. 

"All  my  other  remaining  property,  both  real 
and  personal,  I  shall  leave  to  my  niece,  Patricia 
Doyle." 

"Jane!" 

"Did  you  hear  me?" 

191 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

"Yes." 

"Then  do  as  I  bid  you,  Silas  Watson." 

He  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  looked  at  her 
thoughtfully. 

"I  am  not  only  your  lawyer,  Jane;  I  am  also 
your  friend  and  counsellor.  Do  you  realize  what 
this  bequest  means?"  he  asked,  gently. 

"It  means  that  Patricia  will  inherit  Elmhurst 
— and  a  fortune  besides.  Why  not,  Silas?  I 
liked  the  child  from  the  first.  She's  frank  and 
open  and  brave,  and  will  do  credit  to  my  judg- 
ment." 

"She  is  very  young  and  unsophisticated,"  said 
the  lawyer,  "and  of  all  your  nieces  she  will  least 
appreciate  your  generosity." 

"You  are  to  be  my  executor,  and  manage  the 
estate  until  the  girl  comes  of  age.  You  will  see 
that  she  is  properly  educated  and  fitted  for  her 
station  in  life.  As  for  appreciation,  or  gratitude, 
I  don't  care  a  snap  of  my  finger  for  such  fol-de- 
rol." 

The  lawyer  sighed. 

"But  the  boy,  Jane?  You  seem  to  have  for- 
gotten him,"  he  said. 

192 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

"Drat  the  boy !    I've  done  enough  for  him  al- 
ready." 

"Wouldn't  Tom  like  you  to  provide  for  Ken- 
neth in  some  way,  however  humbly?" 
She  glared  at  him  angrily. 
"How  do  you  know  what  Torn  would  like, 
after  all  these  years?"  she  asked,  sternly.     "And 
how  should  I  know,  either?    The  money  is  mine, 
and  the  boy  is  nothing  to  me.    Let  him  shift  for 
himself." 

"There  is  a  great  deal  of  money,  Jane,"  de- 
clared the  lawyer,  impressively.  "We  have  been 
fortunate  in  our  investments,  and  you  have  used 
but  little  of  your  ample  income.  To  spare  fifty 
thousand  dollars  to  Kenneth,  who  is  Tom's  sole 
remaining  relative,  would  be  no  hardship  to  Pat- 
ricia. Indeed,  she  would  scarcely  miss  it." 

"You  remind  me  of  something,  Silas,"  she 
said,  looking  at  him  with  friendly  eyes.  "Make 
a  memorandum  of  twenty  thousand  dollars  to 
Silas  Watson.  You  have  been  very  faithful  to 
my  interests  and  have  helped  materially  to  in- 
crease my  fortune." 
"Thank  you,  Jane." 

193 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

He  wrote  down  the  amount  as  calmly  as  he 
had  done  the  others. 

"And  the  boy?"  he  asked,  persistently. 

Aunt  Jane  sighed  wearily,  and  leaned  against 
her  pillows. 

"Give  the  boy  two  thousand,"  she  said. 

"Make  it  ten,  Jane." 

"I'll  make  it  five,  and  not  a  penny  more,"  she 
rejoined.  "Now  leave  me,  and  prepare  the  paper 
at  once.  I  want  to  sign  it  today,  if  possible." 

He  bowed  gravely,  and  left  the  room. 

Toward  evening  the  lawyer  came  again,  bring- 
ing with  him  a  notary  from  the  village.  Dr.  Eliel, 
who  had  come  to  visit  Patricia,  was  also  called 
into  Jane  Merrick's  room,  and  after  she  had  care- 
fully read  the  paper  in  their  presence  the  mistress 
of  Elmhurst  affixed  her  signature  to  the  docu- 
ment which  transferred  the  great  estate  to  the 
little  Irish  girl,  and  the  notary  and  the  doctor 
solemnly  witnessed  it  and  retired. 

"Now,  Silas,"  said  the  old  woman,  with  a 
sigh  of  intense  relief,  "I  can  die  in  peace." 

Singularly  enough,  the  signing  of  the  will 
seemed  not  to  be  the  end  for  Jane  Merrick,  but 

194 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

the  beginning  of  an  era  of  unusual  comfort.  On 
the  following  morning  she  awakened  brighter 
than  usual,  having  passed  a  good  night,  freed 
from  the  worries  and  anxieties  that  had  beset 
her  for  weeks.  She  felt  more  like  her  old  self 
than  at  any  time  since  the  paralysis  had  over- 
taken her,  and  passed  the  morning  most  enjoy- 
ably  in  her  sunshiney  garden.  Here  Patricia 
was  also  brought  in  her  wheel  chair  by  Beth,  who 
then  left  the  two  invalids  together. 

They  conversed  genially  enough,  for  a  time, 
until  an  unfortunate  remark  of  Aunt  Jane's  which 
seemed  to  asperse  her  father's  character  aroused 
Patricia's  ire.  Then  she  loosened  her  tongue,  and 
in  her  voluable  Irish  way  berated  her  aunt  until 
poor  Phibbs  stood  aghast  at  such  temerity,  and 
even  Mr.  Watson,  who  arrived  to  enquire  after 
his  client  and  friend,  was  filled  with  amazement. 

He  cast  a  significant  look  at  Miss  Merrick, 
who  answered  it  in  her  usual  emphatic  way. 

"Patricia  is  quite  right,  Silas,"  she  declared, 
"and  I  deserve  all  that  she  has  said.  If  the  girl 
were  fond  enough  of  me  to  defend  me  as  heartily 

195 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

as  she  does  her  father,  I  would  be  very  proud, 
indeed." 

Patricia  cooled  at  once,  and  regarded  her  aunt 
with  a  sunny  smile. 

"Forgive  me!"  she  begged.  "I  know  you 
did  not  mean  it,  and  I  was  wrong  to  talk  to  you 
in  such  a  way." 

So  harmony  was  restored,  and  Mr.  Watson 
wondered  more  and  more  at  this  strange  perver- 
sion of  the  old  woman's  character.  Heretofore 
any  opposition  had  aroused  in  her  intense  rage 
and  a  fierce  antagonism,  but  now  she  seemed 
delighted  to  have  Patsy  fly  at  her,  and  excused 
the  girl's  temper  instead  of  resenting  it. 

But  Patsy  was  a  little  ashamed  of  herself 
this  morning,  realizing  perhaps  that  Aunt  Jane 
had  been  trying  to  vex  her,  just  to  enjoy  her  in- 
dignant speeches;  and  she  also  realized  the  fact 
that  her  aunt  was  old  and  suffering,  and  not 
wholly  responsible  for  her  aggravating  and  some- 
what malicious  observations.  So  she  firmly  re- 
solved not  to  be  so  readily  entrapped  again,  and 
was  so  bright  and  cheery  during  the  next  hour 
that  Aunt  Jane  smiled  more  than  once,  and  at 

196 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

one  time  actually  laughed  at  her  niece's  witty 
repartee. 

After  that  it  became  the  daily  program  for 
Patsy  to  spend  her  mornings  in  Aunt  Jane's  lit- 
tle garden,  and  although  they  sometimes  clashed, 
and,  as  Phibbs  told  Beth,  "had  dreadful  fights," 
they  both  enjoyed  these  hours  very  much. 

The  two  girls  became  rather  uneasy  during 
the  days  their  cousin  spent  in  the  society  of  Aunt 
Jane.  Even  the  dreadful  accounts  they  received 
from  Phibbs  failed  wholly  to  reassure  them,  and 
Louise  redoubled  her  solicitious  attentions  to  her 
aunt  in  order  to  offset  the  influence  Patricia 
seemed  to  be  gaining  over  her. 

Louise  had  also  become,  by  this  time,  the 
managing  housekeeper  of  the  establishment,  and 
it  was  certain  that  Aunt  Jane  looked  upon  her 
eldest  and  most  competent  niece  with  much  favor. 

Beth,  with  all  her  friends  to  sing  her  praises, 
seemed  to  make  less  headway  with  her  aunt  than 
either  of  the  others,  and  gradually  she  sank  into 
a  state  of  real  despondency. 

"I've  done  the  best  I  could,"  she  wrote  her 
mother,  "but  I'm  not  as  clever  as  Louise  nor  as 

197 


AUNT  JANE-'S  NIECES. 

amusing  as  "Patricia;  so  Aunt  Jane  pays  little 
attention  to  me.  She's  a  dreadful  old  woman, 
and  I  can't  bring  myself  to  appear  to  like  her. 
That  probably  accounts  for  my  failure ;  but  I  may 
as  well  stay  on  here  until  something  happens." 

In  a  fortnight  more  Patricia  abandoned  her 
chair  and  took  to  crutches,  on  which  she  hob- 
bled everywhere  as  actively  as  the  others  walked. 
She  affected  her  cousins'  society  more,  from  this 
time,  and  Aunt  Jane's  society  less,  for  she  had 
come  to  be  fond  of  the  two  girls  who  had  nursed 
her  so  tenderly,  and  it  was  natural  that  a  young 
girl  would  prefer  to  be  with  those  of  her  own  age 
rather  than  a  crabbed  old  woman  like  Aunt  Jane. 

Kenneth  also  now  became  Patsy's  faithful 
companion,  for  the  boy  had  lost  his  former  bash- 
fulness  and  fear  of  girls,  and  had  grown  to  feel 
at  ease  even  in  the  society  of  Beth  and  Louise. 
The  four  had  many  excursions  and  picnics  into 
the  country  together;  but  Kenneth  and  Patsy 
were  recognized  as  especial  chums,  and  the  other 
girls  did  not  interfere  in  their  friendship  except 
to  tease  them,  occasionally,  in  a  good  natured 
way. 

198 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

The  boy's  old  acquaintances  could  hardly 
recognize  him  as  the  same  person  they  had  known 
before  Patricia's  adventure  on  the  plank.  His 
fits  of  gloomy  abstraction  and  violent  bursts  of 
temper  had  alike  vanished,  or  only  prevailed  at 
brief  intervals.  Nor  was  he  longer  rude  and  un- 
mannerly to  those  with  whom  he  came  in  con- 
tact. Awkward  he  still  was,  and  lacking  in  many 
graces  that  education  and  good  society  can  alone 
confer ;  but  he  was  trying  hard  to  be,  as  he  con- 
fided to  old  Uncle  John,  "like  other  people,"  and 
succeeded  in  adapting  himself  very  well  to  his 
new  circumstances. 

Although  he  had  no  teacher,  as  yet,  he  had 
begun  to  understand  color  a  little,  and  succeeded 
in  finishing  one  or  two  water-color  sketches 
which  Patsy,  who  knew  nothing  at  all  of  such 
things,  pronounced  "wonderfully  fine."  Of 
course  the  boy  blushed  with  pleasure  and  was  en- 
couraged to  still  greater  effort. 

The  girl  was  also  responsible  for  Kenneth's 
sudden  advancement  in  the  household  at  Elm- 
hurst. 

One  day  she  said  calmly  to  Aunt  Jane : 

199 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

"I've  invited  Kenneth  to  dinner  this  even- 
ing."  , 

The  woman  flew  angry  in  an  instant. 

"Who  gave  you  such  authority?"  she  de- 
manded. 

"No  one.    I  just  took  it,"  said  Patsy,  saucily. 

"He  shall  not  come,"  declared  Aunt  Jane, 
sternly.  "I'll  have  no  interference  from  you, 
Miss,  with  my  household  arrangements.  Phibbs, 
call  Louise!" 

Patsy's  brow  grew  dark.  Presently  Louise 
appeared. 

"Instruct  the  servants  to  forbid  that  boy  to 
enter  my  dining  room  this  evening,"  she  said  to 
Louise. 

"Also,  Louise,"  said  Patsy,  "tell  them  not  to 
lay  a  plate  for  me,  and  ask  Oscar  to  be  ready  with 
the  wagon  at  five  o'clock.  I'm  going  home." 

Louise  hesitated,  and  looked  from  Miss  Jane 
to  Patsy,  and  back  again.  They  were  glaring 
upon  each  other  like  two  gorgons. 

Then  she  burst  into  laughter;  she  could  not 
help  it,  the  sight  was  too  ridiculous.  A  momer* 

200 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

later   Patsy  was  laughing,  too,  and  then  Aunt 
Jane  allowed  a  grim  smile  to  cross  her  features. 

"Never  mind,  Louise,"  she  said,  with  re- 
markable cheerfulness;  "We'll  compromise  mat- 
ters." 

"How?"   asked   Patsy. 

"By  putting  a  plate  for  Kenneth,"  said  her 
aunt,  cooly.  "I  imagine  I  can  stand  his  society 
for  one  evening." 

So  the  matter  was  arranged  to  Patricia's  sat- 
isfaction, and  the  boy  came  to  dinner,  trembling 
and  unhappy  at  first,  but  soon  placed  at  ease  by 
the  encouragements  of  the  three  girls.  Indeed, 
he  behaved  so  well,  in  the  main,  and  was  so  gen- 
tle and  unobstrusive,  that  Aunt  Jane  looked  at 
him  with  surprise,  and  favored  him  with  one  or 
two  speeches  which  he  answered  modestly  and 
well. 

Patsy  was  radiant  with  delight,  and  the  next 
day  Aunt  Jane  remarked  casually  that  she  did 
not  object  to  the  boy's  presence  at  dinner,  at  all, 
and  he  could  come  whenever  he  liked. 

This  arrangement  gave  great  pleasure  to  both 
Uncle  John  and  Mr.  Watson,  the  latter  of  whom 

201 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

was  often  present  at  the  "state  dinner,"  and  both 
men  congratulated  Patsy  upon  the  distinct  vic- 
tory she  had  won.  No  more  was  said  about  her 
leaving  Elmhurst.  The  Major  wrote  that  he 
was  having  a  splendid  time  with  the  colonel,  and 
begged  for  an  extension  of  his  vacation,  to  which 
Patsy  readily  agreed,  she  being  still  unable  on  ac- 
count of  her  limb  to  return  to  her  work  at  Madam 
Borne's. 

And  so  the  days  glided  pleasantly  by,  and  Au- 
gust came  to  find  a  happy  company  of  young  folks 
at  old  Elmhurst,  with  Aunt  Jane  wonderfully 
improved  in  health  and  Uncle  John  beaming  com- 
placently upon  everyone  he  chanced  to  meet. 


202 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 


PATRICIA   SPEAKS    FRANKLY. 

It  was  Lawyer  Watson's  suggestion  that  she 
was  being  unjust  to  Beth  and  Louise,  in  encour- 
aging them  to  hope  they  might  inherit  Elmhurst, 
that  finally  decided  Aunt  Jane  to  end  all  misun- 
derstandings and  inform  her  nieces  of  the  fact 
that  she  had  made  a  final  disposition  of  her 
property. 

So  one  morning  she  sent  word  asking  them 
all  into  her  room,  and  when  the  nieces  appeared 
they  found  Uncle  John  and  the  lawyer  already  in 
their  aunt's  presence.  There  was  an  air  of  im- 
pressive formality  pervading  the  room,  although 
Miss  Merrick's  brother,  at  least,  was  as  ignor- 
ant as  her  nieces  of  the  reason  why  they  had  been 
summoned. 

Patsy  came  in  last,  hobbling  actively  on  her 

203 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

crutches,  although  the  leg  was  now  nearly  re- 
covered, and  seated  herself  somewhat  in  the  rear 
of  the  apartment. 

Aunt  Jane  looked  into  one  expectant  face  af- 
ter another  with  curious  interest,  and  then  broke 
the  silence  by  saying,  gravely,  but  in  more  gen- 
tle tones  than  she  was  accustomed  to  use : 

"I  believe,  young  ladies,  that  you  have  under- 
stood from  the  first  my  strongest  reason  for  in- 
viting you  to  visit  Elmhurst  this  summer.  I  am 
old,  and  must  soon  pass  away,  and  instead  of 
leaving  you  and  your  parents,  who  would  be  my 
legitimate  heirs,  too  squabble  over  my  property 
when  I  am  gone,  I  decided  to  excute  a  will  be- 
queathing my  estate  to  some  one  who  would  take 
proper  care  of  it  and  maintain  it  in  a  creditable 
manner.  I  had  no  personal  acquaintance  with 
any  of  you,  but  judged  that  one  out  of  the  three 
might  serve  my  purpose,  and  therefore  invited 
you  all  here." 

By  this  time  the  hearts  of  Louise  and  Beth 
were  fluttering  with  excitement,  and  even  Patsy 
looked  interested.  Uncle  John  sat  a  little  apart, 
watching  them  with  an  amused  smile  upon  his 

204 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

face,  and  the  lawyer  sat  silent  with  his  eyes  fixed 
upon  a  pattern  in  the  rug. 

"In  arriving  at  a  decision,  which  I  may  say 
I  have  succeeded  in  doing,"  continued  Aunt  Jane, 
calmly,  "I  do  not  claim  to  have  acted  with  either 
wisdom  or  discernment.  I  have  simply  followed 
my  own  whim,  as  I  have  the  right  to  do,  and  se- 
lected the  niece  I  prefer  to  become  my  heiress. 
You  cannot  accuse  of  injustice,  because  none 
of  you  had  a  right  to  expect  anything  of  me ;  but 
I  will  say  this,  that  I  am  well  pleased  with  all 
three  of  you,  and  now  wish  that  I  had  taken  pains 
to  form  your  acquaintance  earlier  in  life.  You 
might  have  cheered  my  old  age,  and  rendered  it 
less  lonely  and  dull." 

"Well  said,  Jane,"  remarked  Uncle  John,  nod- 
ding his  head  approvingly. 

She  did  not  notice  the  interruption,  but  pres- 
ently continued : 

"Some  days  ago  I  asked  my  lawyer,  Mr.  Wat- 
son, to  draw  up  my  will.  It  was  at  once  prepared 
and  signed,  and  now  stands  as  my  last  will  and 
testament.  I  have  given  to  you,  Louise,  the  sum 
of  five  thousand  dollars." 

205 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

Louise  laughed  nervously,  and  threw  out  her 
hands  with  an  indifferent  gesture. 

"Many  thanks,  Aunt,"  she  said,  lightly. 

"To  you,  Beth,"  continued  Miss  Merrick,  "I 
have  given  the  same  sum." 

Beth's  heart  sank,  and  tears  forced  themselves 
into  her  eyes  in  spite  of  her  efforts  to  restrain 
them.  She  said  nothing. 

Aunt  Jane  turned  to  her  brother. 

"I  have  also  provided  for  you,  John,  in  the 
sum  of  five  thousand  dollars." 

"Me !"  he  exclaimed,  astounded.  "Why, 
suguration,  Jane,  I  don't — " 

"Silence!"  she  cried,  sternly.  "I  expect 
neither  thanks  nor  protests.  If  you  take  care  of 
the  money,  John,  it  will  last  you  as  long  as  you 
live." 

Uncle  John  laughed.  He  doubled  up  in  his 
chair  and  rocked  back  and  forth,  shaking  his  lit- 
tle round  body  as  if  he  had  met  with  the  most 
amusing  thing  that  had  ever  happened  in  his  life. 
Aunt  Jane  stared  at  him,  while  Louise  and  Beth 
looked  their  ashonishment,  but  Patsy's  clear 

206 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

laughter  rang  above  Uncle  John's  gasping 
chuckles. 

"I  hope,  dear  Uncle,"  said  she,  mischievously, 
"that  when  poor  Aunt  Jane  is  gone  you'll  be  able 
to  buy  a  new  necktie." 

He  looked  at  her  whimsically,  and  wiped  the 
tears  from  his  eyes. 

"Thank  you,  Jane,"  said  the  little  man  to  his 
sister.  "It's  a  lot  of  money,  and  I'll  be  proud  to 
own  it." 

"Why  did  you  laugh .'"  demanded  Aunt  Jane. 

"I  just  happened  to  think  that  our  old  Dad 
once  said  I'd  never  be  worth  a  dollar  in  all  my 
life.  What  would  he  say  now,  Jane,  if  he  knew 
I  stood  good  to  have  five  thousand — if  I  can 
manage  to  outlive  you?" 

She  turned  from  him  with  an  expression  of 
scorn. 

"In  addition  to  these  bequests,"  said  she,  "I 
have  left  five  thousand  to  the  boy  and  twenty 
thousand  to  Mr.  Watson.  The  remainder  of  the 
property  will  go  to  Patricia." 

For  a  moment  the  room  was  intensely  still. 
Then  Patricia  said,  with  quiet  determination : 

207 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES.' 

"You  may  as  well  make  another  will,  Aunt. 
I'll  not  touch  a  penny  of  your  money." 

"Why  not?"  asked  the  woman,  almost  fierce- 

ly. 

"You  have  been  kind  to  me,  and  you  mean 
well,"  said  Patricia.  "I  would  rather  not  tell 
you  my  reasons." 

"I  demand  to  know  them !" 

"Ah,  aunt;  can't  you  understand,  without  my 
speaking  ?" 

"No,"  said  the  other;  but  a  flush  crossed  her 
pale  cheek,  nevertheless. 

Patsy  arose  and  stumped  to  a  position  di- 
rectly in  front  of  Jane  Merrick,  where  she  rested 
on  her  crutches.  Her  eyes  were  bright  and  full 
of  indignation,  and  her  plain  little  face  was  so 
white  that  every  freckle  showed  distinctly. 

"There  was  a  time,  years  ago,"  she  began  in 
a  low  voice,  "when  you  were  very  rich  and  your 
sister  Violet,  my  mother,  was  very  poor.  Her 
health  was  bad,  and  she  had  me  to  care  for,  while 
my  father  was  very  ill  with  a  fever.  She  was 
proud,  too,  and  for  herself  she  would  never  have 
begged  a  penny  of  anyone;  but  for  my  sake  she 

208 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

asked  her  rich  sister  to  loan  her  a  little  money  to 
tide  her  over  her  period  of  want.  What  did  you 
do,  Jane  Merrick,  you  who  lived  in  a  beautiful 
mansion,  and  had  more  money  than  you  could 
use?  You  insulted  her,  telling  her  she  belonged 
to  a  family  of  beggars,  and  that  none  of  them 
could  wheedle  your  money  away  from  you!" 

"It  was  true,"  retorted  the  elder  woman,  stub- 
bornly. "They  were  after  me  like  a  drove  of 
wolves — every  Merrick  of  them  all — and  they 
would  have  ruined  me  if  I  had  let  them  bleed  me 
as  they  wished." 

"So  far  as  my  mother  is  concerned,  that's  a 
lie,"  said  Patsy,  quietly.  "She  never  appealed  to 
you  but  that  once,  but  worked  as  bravely  as  she, 
could  to  earn  money  in  her  own  poor  way.  The 
result  was  that  she  died,  and  I  was  left  to  the 
care  of  strangers  until  my  father  was  well  enough 
to  support  me." 

She  paused,  and  again  the  room  seemed  un- 
naturally still. 

"I'm  sorry,  girl,"  said  Aunt  Jane,  at  last,  in 
trembling  tones.  "I  was  wrong.  I  see  it  now, 
and  I  am  sorry  I  refused  Violet." 

2OQ 
14 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

"Then  I  forgive  you !"  said  Patsy,  impulsive- 
ly. "I  forgive  you  all,  Aunt  Jane;  for  through 
your  own  selfishness  you  cut  yourself  off  from  all 
your  family — from  all  who  might  have  loved 
you — and  you  have  lived  all  these  years  a  soli- 
tary and  loveless  life.  There'll  be  no  grudge  of 
mine  to  follow  you  to  the  grave,  Aunt  Jane. 
"But,"  her  voice  hardening,  "I'll  never  touch  a 
penny  of  the  money  that  was  denied  my  poor 
dead  mother.  Thank  God  the  old  Dad  and  I 
are  independent,  and  can  earn  our  own  living." 

Uncle  John  came  to  where  Patsy  stood  and 
put  both  arms  around  her,  pressing  her — crutches 
and  all — close  to  his  breast.  Then  he  released 
her,  and  without  a  word  stalked  from  the  room. 

"Leave  me,  now,"  said  Aunt  Jane,  in  a  husky 
voice.  "I  want  time  to  think." 

Patricia  hobbled  forward,  placed  one  hand 
caressingly  upon  the  gray  head,  and  then  "bent 
and  kissed  Aunt  Jane's  withered  cheek. 

"That's  right,"  she  whispered.  "Think  it 
over,  dear.  It's  all  past  and  done,  now,  and  I'm 
sorry  I  had  to  hurt  you.  But — not  a  penny,  aunt 
— remember,  not  a  penny  will  I  take !" 

210 


-AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

Then  she  left  the  room,  followed  by  Louise 
and  Beth,  both  of  whom  were  glad  to  be  alone 
that  they  might  conquer  their  bitter  disappoint- 
ment. 

Louise,  however,  managed  to  accept  the  mat- 
ter philosophically,  as  the  following  extract  from 
her  letter  to  her  mother  will  prove : 

"After  all,  it  isn't  so  bad  as  it  might  be,  mater, 
dear,"  she  wrote.  "I'll  get  five  thousand,  at 
the  very  worst,  and  that  will  help  us  on  our  way 
considerably.  But  I  am  quite  sure  that  Patsy 
means  just  what  she  says,  and  that  she  will  yet 
induce  Aunt  Jane  to  alter  her  will.  In  that  case 
I  believe  the  estate  will  either  be  divided  between 
Beth  and  me,  or  I  will  get  it  all.  Anyway,  I 
shall  stay  here  and  play  my  best  cards  until  the 
game  is  finished." 


211 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


DUPLICITY. 

Aunt  Jane  had  a  bad  night,  as  might  have 
been  expected  after  her  trials  of  the  previous 
day. 

She  sent  for  Patricia  early  in  the  forenoon, 
and  when  the  girl  arrived  she  was  almost  shocked 
by  the  change  in  her  aunt's  appearance.  The 
invalid's  face  seemed  drawn  and  gray,  and  she 
lay  upon  her  cushions  breathing  heavily  and  with- 
out any  appearance  of  vitality  or  strength.  Even 
the  sharpness  and  piercing  quality  of  her  hard 
gray  eyes  was  lacking  and  the  glance  she  cast  at 
her  niece  was  rather  pleading  than  defiant. 

"I  want  you  to  reconsider  your  decision  of 
yesterday,  Patricia,"  she  begun. 

"Don't  ask  me  to  do  that,  aunt,"  replied  the 
girl,  firmly.  "My  mind  is  fully  made  up." 

212 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

"I  have  made  mistakes,  I  know,"  continued 
the  woman  feebly;  "but  I  want  to  do  the  right 
thing,  at  last." 

"Then  I  will  show  you  how,"  said  Patricia, 
quickly.  "You  mustn't  think  me  impertinent, 
aunt,  for  I  don't  mean  to  be  so  at  all.  But  tell 
me;  why  did.  you  wish  to  leave  me  your  money?" 

"Because  your  nature  is  quite  like  my  own, 
child,  and  I  admire  your  independence  and 
spirit." 

"But  my  cousins  are  much  more  deserving." 
said  she,  thoughtfully.  "Louise  is  very  sweet 
and  amiable,  and  loves  you  more  than  I  do,  while 
Beth  is  the  most  sensible  and  practical  girl  I  have 
ever  known." 

"It  may  be  so,"  returned  Aunt  Jane,  impa- 
tiently; "but  I  have  left  each  a  legacy,  Patricia, 
and  you  alone  are  my  choice  for  the  mistress  of 
Elmhurst.  I  told  you  yesterday  I  should  not  try 
to  be  just.  I  mean  to  leave  my  property  accord- 
ing to  my  personal  desire,  and  no  one  shall  hinder 
me."  This  last  with  a  spark  of  her  old  vigor. 

"But  that  is  quite  wrong,  aunt,  and  if  you 
desire  me  to  inherit  your  wealth  you  will  be  dis- 

213 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

appointed.  A  moment  ago  you  said  you  wished 
to  do  the  right  thing,  at  last.  Don't  you  know 
what  that  is  ?" 

"Perhaps  you  will  tell  me,"  said  Aunt  Jane, 
curiously. 

"With  pleasure,"  returned  Patsy.  "Mr.  Brad- 
ley left  you  this  property  because  he  loved  you, 
and  love  blinded  him  to  all  sense  of  justice.  Such 
an  estate  should  not  have  passed  into  the  hands 
of  aliens  because  of  a  lover's  whim.  He  should 
have  considered  his  own  flesh  and  blood." 

"There  was  no  one  but  his  sister,  who  at  that 
time  was  not  married  and  had  no  son,"  explained 
Aunt  Jane,  calmly.  "But  he  did  not  forget  her 
and  asked  me  to  look  after  Katherine  Bradley  in 
case  she  or  her  heirs  ever  needed  help.  I  have 
done  so.  When  his  mother  died,  I  had  the  boy 
brought  here,  and  he  has  lived  here  ever  since." 

"But  the  property  ought  to  be  his,"  said  Pat- 
ricia, earnestly.  "It  would  please  me  beyond 
measure  to  have  you  make  your  will  in  his  favor, 
and  you  would  be  doing  the  right  thing  at  last." 

"I  won't,"  said  Aunt  Jane,  angrily. 

"It  would  also  be  considerate  and  just  to  the 

214 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

memory  of  Mr.  Bradley,"  continued  the  girl. 
"What's  going  to  became  of  Kenneth?" 

"I  have  left  him  five  thousand,"  said  the 
woman. 

"Not  enough  to  educate  him  properly,"  re- 
plied Patsy,  with  a  shake  of  her  head.  "Why, 
the  boy  might  become  a  famous  artist,  if  he  had 
good  masters;  and  a  person  with  an  artistic  tem- 
perament, such  as  his,  should  have  enough  money 
to  be  independent  of  his  art." 

Aunt  Jane  coughed,   unsympathetically. 

"The  boy  is  nothing  to  me,"  she  said. 

"But  he  ought  to  have  Elmhurst,  at  least," 
pleaded  the  girl.  "Won't  you  leave  it  to  him, 
Aunt  Jane?" 

"No." 

"Then  do  as  you  please,"  cried  Patsy,  flying 
angry  in  her  turn.  "As  a  matter  of  justice,  the 
place  should  never  have  been  yours,  and  I  won't 
accept  a  dollar  of  the  money  if  I  starve  to  death !" 

"Think  of  your  father,"  suggested  Aunt 
Jane,  cunningly. 

"Ah,  I've  done  that,"  said  the  girl,  "and  I 
know  how  many  comforts  I  could  buy  for  the 

215 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

dear  Major.  Also  I'd  like  to  go  to  a  girl's  col- 
lege, like  Smith  or  Wellesley,  and  get  a  proper 
education.  But  not  with  your  money,  Aunt  Jane. 
It  would  burn  my  fingers.  Always  I  would 
think  that  if  you  had  not  been  hard  and  miserly 
this  same  money  would  have  saved  my  mother's 
life.  No!  I  loathe  your  money.  Keep  it  or 
throw  it  to  the  dogs,  if  you  won't  give  it  to  the 
boy  it  belongs  to.  But  don't  you  dare  to  will 
your  selfish  hoard  to  me." 

"Let  us  change  the  subject,  Patricia." 

"Will  you  change  your  will?" 

"No." 

"Then  I  won't  talk  to  you.  I'm  angry  and 
hurt,  and  if  I  stay  here  I'll  say  things  I  shall  be 
sorry  for." 

With  these  words  she  marched  out  of  the 
room,  her  cheeks  flaming,  and  Aunt  Jane  looked 
after  her  with  admiring  eyes. 

"She's  right,"  she  whispered  to  herself.  "It's 
just  as  I'd  do  under  the  same  circumstances!" 

This  interview  was  but  the  beginning  of  a 
series  that  lasted  during  the  next  fortnight,  dur- 
ing which  time  the  invalid  persisted  in  sending 

216 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

for  Patricia  and  fighting  the  same  fight  over 
and  over  again.  Always  the  girl  pleaded  for 
Kenneth  to  inherit,  and  declared  she  would  not 
accept  the  money  and  Elmhurst;  and  always 
Aunt  Jane  stubbornly  refused  to  consider  the 
boy  and  tried  to  tempt  the  girl  with  pictures  of 
the  luxury  and  pleasure  that  riches  would  bring 
her. 

The  interviews  were  generally  short  and  spir- 
ited, however,  and  during  the  intervals  Patsy 
associated  more  than  ever  w-ith  her  cousins,  both 
of  whom  grew  really  fond  of  her. 

They  fully  believed  Patricia  when  she  de- 
clared she  would  never  accept  the  inheritance,  and 
although  neither  Beth  nor  Louise  could  under- 
stand such  foolish  sentimentality  they  were  equal- 
ly overjoyed  at  the  girl's  stand  and  the  firmness 
with  which  she  maintained  it.  With  Patsy  out 
of  the  field  it  was  quite  possible  the  estate  would 
be  divided  between  her  cousins,  or  even  go  en- 
tire to  one  or  the  other  of  them;  and  this  hope 
constantly  buoyed  their  spirits  and  filled  their 
days  with  interest  as  they  watched  the  fight  be- 
tween their  aunt  and  their  cousin. 

217 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

Patricia  never  told  them  she  was  pleading  so 
hard  for  the  boy.  It  would  only  pain  her  cousins 
and  make  them  think  she  was  disloyal  to  their 
interests;  but  she  lost  no  opportunity  when  with 
her  Aunt  Jane  of  praising  Kenneth  and  proving 
his  ability,  and  finally  she  seemed  to  win  her 
point. 

Aunt  Jane  was  really  worn  out  with  the  con- 
stant squabbling  with  her  favorite  niece.  She 
had  taken  a  turn  for  the  worse,  too,  and  began 
to  decline  rapidly.  So,  her  natural  cunning  and 
determination  to  have  her  own  way  enhanced  by 
her  illness,  the  woman  decided  to  deceive  Patricia 
and  enjoy  her  few  remaining  days  in  peace. 

"Suppose,"  she  said  to  Mr.  Watson,  "my  pres- 
ent will  stands,  and  after  my  death  the  estate  be- 
comes the  property  of  Patricia.  Can  she  refuse 
it?" 

"Not  legally,"  returned  the  lawyer.  "It 
would  remain  in  her  name,  but  under  my  control, 
during  her  minority.  When  she  became  of  age, 
however,  she  could  transfer  it  as  she  might 
choose." 

"By  that   time   she   will   have   gained   more 

218 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

sense,"  declared  Aunt  Jane,  much  pleased  with 
this  aspect  of  the  case,  "and  it  isn't  reasonable 
that  having  enjoyed  a  fortune  for  a  time  any  girl 
would  throw  it  away.  I'll  stick  to  my  point,  Silas, 
but  I'll  try  to  make  Patricia  believe  she  has  won 
me  over." 

Therefore,  the  very  next  time  that  the  girl 
pleaded  with  her  to  make  Kenneth  her  heir,  she 
said,  with  a  clever  assumption  of  resignation : 

"Very  well,  Patricia;  you  shall  have  your 
way.  My  only  desire,  child,  is  to  please  you,  as 
you  well  know,  and  if  you  long  to  see  Kenneth 
the  owner  of  Elmhurst  I  will  have  a  new  will 
drawn  in  his  favor." 

Patricia  could  scarcely  believe  her  ears. 

"Do  you  really  mean  it,  aunt?"  she  asked, 
flushing  red  with  pleasure. 

"I  mean  exactly  what  I  say,  and  now  let  us 
cease  all  bickerings,  my  dear,  and  my  few  re- 
maining days  will  be  peaceful  and  happy." 

Patricia  thanked  her  aunt  with  eager  words, 
and  said,  as  indeed  she  felt,  that  she  could  almost 
love  Aunt  Jane  for  her  final,  if  dilatory,  act  of 
justice. 

219 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

Mr.  Watson  chanced  to  enter  the  room  at  that 
moment,  and  the  girl  cried  out : 

"Tell  him,  aunt !  Let  him  get  the  paper  ready 
at  once." 

"There  is  no  reason  for  haste/'  said  Aunt 
Jane,  meeting  the  lawyer's  questioning  gaze  with 
some  embarrassment. 

Silas  Watson  was  an  honorable  and  upright 
man,  and  his  client's  frequent  doubtful  methods 
had  in  past  years  met  his  severe  censure.  Yet 
he  had  once  promised  his  dead  friend,  Tom  Brad- 
ley, that  he  would  serve  Jane  Merrick  faithfully. 
He  had  striven  to  do  so,  bearing  with  her  faults 
of  character  when  he  found  that  he  could  not  cor* 
rect  them.  His  influence  over  her  had  never  been 
very  strong,  however,  and  he  had  learned  that  it 
was  the  most  easy  as  well  as  satisfactory  method 
to  bow  to  her  iron  will. 

Her  recent  questionings  had  prepared  him 
for  some  act  of  duplicity,  but  he  had  by  no  means 
understood  her  present  object,  nor  did  she  mean 
that  he  should'.  So  she  answered  his  questioning 
look  by  saying : 

"I  have  promised  Patricia  that  you  shall  draw 

220 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

a  new  will,  leaving  all  my  estate  to  Kenneth 
Forbes,  except  for  the  bequests  that  are  men- 
tioned in  the  present  paper." 

The  lawryer  regarded  her  with  amazement. 
Then  his  brow  darkened,  for  he  thought  she  was 
playing  with  the  girl,  and  was  not  sincere. 

"Tell  him  to  draw  up  the  paper  right  away, 
aunt!"  begged  Patricia,  with  sparkling  eyes. 

"As  soon  as  you  can,  Silas,"  said  the  invalid. 

"And,  aunt,  can't  you  spare  a  little  more  to 
Louise  and  Beth?  It  would  make  them  so 
happy." 

"Double  the  amount  I  had  allowed  to  each  of 
them,"  the  woman  commanded  her  lawyer. 

"Can  it  all  be  ready  to  sign  tonight?"  asked 
Patsy,  excitedly. 

"I'll  try,  my  dear,"  replied  the  old  lawyer, 
gravely.  Then  he  turned  to  Jane  Merrick. 

"Are  you  in  earnest  ?"  he  asked. 

Patsy's  heart  suddenly  sank. 

"Yes,"  was  the  reply.  "I  am  tired  of  oppos- 
ing this  child's  wishes.  What  do  I  care  what  be- 
comes of  my  money,  when  I  am  gone?  All  that 
I  desire  is  to  have  my  remaining  days  peaceful." 

221 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

The  girl  spring  forward  and  kissed  her  rap- 
turously. 

"They  shall  be,  aunt!"  she  cried.    "I  promise 
it." 


222 


CHAPTER  XX. 


IN   THE   GARDEN. 

From  this  hour  Patsy  devoted  herself  untir- 
ingly to  Aunt  Jane,  and  filled  her  days  with  as 
much  sunshine  as  her  merry  ways  and  happy  na- 
ture could  confer.  Yet  there  was  one  thing-  that 
rendered  her  uneasy :  the  paper  that  Lawyer  Wat- 
son had  so  promptly  drawn  had  never  yet  been 
signed  and  witnessed.  Her  aunt  had  allowed 
her  to  read  it,  saying  she  wished  the  girl  to 
know  she  had  acted  in  good  faith,  and  Patsy  had 
no  fault  at  all  to  find  with 'the  document.  But 
Aunt  Jane  was  tired,  and  deferred  signing  it  that 
evening.  The  next  day  no  witnesses  could  be 
secured,  and  so  another  postponement  followed, 
and  upon  one  pretext  or  another  the  matter  was 
put  off  until  Patricia  became  suspicious. 

Noting  this,  Aunt  Jane  decided  to  complete 

223 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

her  act  of  deception.  She  signed  the  will  in  the 
girl's  presence,  with  Oscar  and  Susan  to  witness 
her  signature.  Lawyer  Watson  was  not  present 
on  this  occasion,  and  as  soon  as  Patsy  had  left 
her  Miss  Merrick  tore  off  the  signatures  and 
burned  them,  wrote  "void"  in  bold  letters  across 
the  face  of  the  paper,  and  then,  it  being  rendered 
of  no  value,  she  enclosed  it  in  a  large  yellow  enve- 
lope, sealed  it,  and  that  evening  handed  the  enve- 
lope to  Mr.  Watson  with  the  request  that  it  be 
not  opened  until  after  her  death. 

Patricia,  in  her  delight,  whispered  to  the  law- 
yer that  the  paper  was  really  signed,  and  he  was 
well  pleased  and  guarded  the  supposed  treasure 
carefully.  The  girl  also  took  occasion  to  inform 
both  Beth  and  Louise  that  a  new  will  had  been 
made  in  which  they  both  profited  largely,  but  she 
kept  the  secret  of  who  the  real  heir  was,  and  both 
her  cousins  grew  to  believe  they  would  share 
equally  in  the  entire  property. 

So  now  an  air  of  harmony  settled  upon  Elm- 
hurst,  and  Uncle  John  joined  the  others  in  ad- 
miration of  the  girl  who  had  conquered  the  stub- 

224-' 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

bornness  of  her  stern  old  aunt  and  proved  her- 
self so  unselfish  and  true. 

One  morning  Aunt  Jane  had  Phibbs  wheel  her 
into  her  little  garden,  as  usual,  and  busied  her- 
self examining  the  flowers  and  plants  of  which 
she  had  always  been  so  fond. 

"James  has  been  neglecting  his  work,  lately," 
she  said,  sharply,  to  her  attendant. 

"He's  very  queer,  ma'am,"  replied  old  Mar* 
tha,  "ever  since  the  young  ladies  an'  Master 
John  came  to  Elmhurst.  Strangers  he  never 
could  abide,  as  you  know,  and  he  runs  and  hides 
himself  as  soon  as  he  sees  any  of  'em  about." 

"Poor  James!"  said  Miss  Merrick,  recalling 
her  old  gardener's  infirmity.  "But  he  must  not 
neglect  my  flowers  in  this  way,  or  they  will  be 
ruined." 

"He  isn't  so  afraid  of  Master  John,"  went  on 
Phibbs,  reflectively,  "as  he  is  of  the  young  ladies. 
Sometimes  Master  John  talks  to  James,  in  his 
quiet  way,  and  I've  noticed  he  listens  to  him  quite 
respectively — like  he  always  does  to  ,you,  Miss 
Jane." 

"Go  and  find  James,   and   ask  him   to   step 

225 

15 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

here,"  commanded  the  mistress,  "and  then  guard 
the  opening  in  the  hedge,  and  see  that  none  of  my 
nieces  appear  to  bother  him." 

Phibbs  obediently  started  upon  her  errand, 
and  came  upon  James  in  the  tool-house,  at  the 
end  of  the  big  garden.  He  was  working  among 
his  flower  pots  and  seemed  in  a  quieter  mood 
than  usual. 

Phibbs  delivered  her  message,  and  the  gar- 
dener at  once  started  to  obey.  He  crossed  the 
garden  unobserved  and  entered  the  little  enclo- 
sure where  Miss  June's  chair  stood.  The  invalid 
was  leaning  back  on  her  cushions,  but  her  eyes 
were  wide  open  and  staring. 

"I've  come,  Miss,"  said  James ;  and  then,  get- 
ting no  reply,  he  looked  into  her  face.  A  gleam 
of  sunlight  filtered  through  the  bushes  and  fell 
aslant  Jane  Merrick's  eyes;  but  not  a  lash  quiv- 
ered. 

James  gave  a  scream  that  rang  through  the 
air  and  silenced  even  the  birds.  Then,  shrieking 
like  the  madman  he  was,  he  bounded  away 
through  the  hedge,  sending  old  Martha  whirling 

226 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

into  a  rose-bush,  and  fled  as  if  a  thousand  fiends 
were  at  his  heels. 

John  Merrick  and  Mr.  Watson,  who  were  not 
far  off,  aroused  by  the  bloodcurdling  screams, 
ran  toward  Aunt  Jane's  garden,  and  saw  in  a 
glance  what  had  happened. 

"Poor  Jane,"  whispered  the  brother,  bending 
over  to  tenderly  close  the  staring  eyes,  "her  fate 
has  overtaken  her  unawares." 

"Better  so,"  said  the  lawyer,  gently.  "She 
has  found  Peace  at  last." 

Together  they  wheeled  her  back  into  her 
chamber,  and  called  the  women  to  care  for  their 
dead  mistress. 


227 


CHAPTER  XXI. 


READING   THE    WILL. 

Aunt  Jane's  funeral  was  extremely  simple 
and  quiet.  The  woman  had  made  no  friends  dur- 
ing her  long  residence  in  the  neighborhood,  hav- 
ing isolated  herself  at  "the  big  house"  and  re- 
fused to  communicate  in  any  way  with  the  fam- 
ilies living  near  by.  Therefore,  although  her 
death  undoubtedly  aroused  much  interest  and 
comment,  no  one  cared  to  be  present  at  the  obse- 
quies. 

So  the  minister  came  from  Elmwood,  and  be- 
ing unable  to  say  much  that  was  good  or  bad  of 
"the  woman  who  had  departed  from  this  vale  of 
tears,"  he  confined  his  remarks  to  generalities 
and  made  them  as  brief  as  possible.  Then  the 
body  was  borne  to  the  little  graveyard  a  mile 
away,  followed  by  the  state  carriage,  containing 

22% 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

the  three  nieces  and  Kenneth;  the  drag  with 
Silas  Watson  and  Uncle  John,  the  former  driv- 
ing; and  then  came  the  Elmhurst  carryall  with 
the  servants.  James  did  not  join  these  last;  nor 
did  he  appear  at  the  house  after  that  dreadful 
scene  in  the  garden.  He  had  a  little  room  over 

* 

the  tool-house,  which  Jane  Merrick  had  had  pre- 
pared for  him  years  ago,  and  here  he  locked  him- 
self in  day  and  night,  stealthily  emerging  but  to 
secure  the  food  Susan  carried  and  placed  before 
his  door. 

No  one  minded  James  much,  for  all  the  in- 
mates of  Elhurst  were  under  severe  and  exciting 
strain  in  the  days  preceding  the  funeral. 

The  girls  wept  a  little,  but  it  was  more  on 
account  of  the  solemnity  following  the  shadow 

* 

of  death  than  for  any  great  affection  they  bore 
their  aunt.  Patsy,  indeed,  tried  to  deliver  a  trib- 
ute to  Aunt  Jane's  memory;  but  it  was  not  an 
emphatic  success. 

"I'm  sure  she  had  a  good  heart,"  said  the 
girl,  "and  if  she  had  lived  more  with  her  own 
family  and  cultivated  her  friends  she  would  have 

229 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

been  much  less  hard  and  selfish.  At  the  last,  you 
know,  she  was  quite  gentle." 

"I  hadn't  noticed  it,"  remarked  Beth. 

"Oh,  I  did.  And  she  made  a  new  will,  after 
that  awful  one  she  told  us  of,  and  tried  to  be  just 
and  fair  to  all." 

"I'm  glad  to  hear  that,"  said  Louise.  "Tell 
us,  Patsy,  what  does  the  will  say?  You  must 
know  all  about  it." 

"Mr.  Watson  is  going  to  read  it,  after  the 
funeral,"  replied  the  girl,  "and  then  you  will 
know  as  much  about  it  as  I  do.  I  mustn't  tell 
secrets,  my  dear." 

So  Louise  and  Beth  waited  in  much  nervous 
excitement  for  the  final  realization  of  their  hopes 
or  fears,  and  during  the  drive  to  the  cemetary 
there  was  little  conversation  in  the  state  car- 
riage. Kenneth's  sensitive  nature  was  greatly 
affected  by  the  death  of  the  woman "  who  had 
played  so  important  a  part  in  the  brief  story  of 
his  life,  and  the  awe  it  inspired  rendered  him 
gloomy  and  silent.  Lawyer  Watson  had  once 
warned  him  that  Miss  Merrick's  death  might 

230 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

make  him  an  outcast,  and  he  felt  the  insecurity 
of  his  present  position. 

But  Patsy,  believing  he  would  soon  know  of 
his  good  fortune,  watched  him  curiously  during 
the  ride,  and  beamed  upon  him  as  frequently  as 
her  own  low  spirits  would  permit. 

"You  know,  Ken,"  she  reminded  him,  "that 
whatever  happens  we  are  always  to  remain 
friends." 

"Of  course,"  replied  the  boy,  briefly. 

The  girl  had  thrown  aside  her  crutches,  by 
this  time,  and  planned  to  return  to  her  work  im- 
mediately after  the  funeral. 

The  brief  services  at  the  cemetery  being  con- 
cluded, the  little  cavalcade  returned  to  Elmhurst, 
where  luncheon  was  awaiting  them. 

Then  Mr.  Watson  brought  into  the  drawing 
room  the  tin  box  containing  the  important  Elm- 
hurst  papers  in  his  possession,  and  having  re- 
quested all  present  to  be  seated  he  said : 

"In  order  to  clear  up  the  uncertainty  that  at 
present  exists  concerning  Miss  Merrick's  last 
will  and  testament,  I  will  now  proceed  to  read 

231 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

to  you  the  document,  which  will  afterward  be 
properly  probated  according  to  law." 

There  was  no  need  to  request  their  attention. 
An  intense  stillness  pervaded  the  room. 

The  lawyer  calmly  unlocked  the  tin  box  and 
drew  out  the  sealed  yellow  envelope  which  Miss 
Merrick  had  recently  given  him.  Patsy's  heart 
was  beating  with  eager  expectancy.  She  watched 
the  lawyer  break  the  seal,  draw  out  the  paper 
and  then  turn  red  and  angry.  He  hesitated  a 
moment,  and  then  thrust  the  useless  document 
into  its  enclosure  and  cast  it  aside. 

"Is  anything  wrong?"  asked  the  girl  in  a  low 
whisper,  which  was  yet  distinctly  heard  by  all. 

Mr.  Watson  seemed  amazed.  Jane  Merrick's 
deceitful  trickery,  discovered  so  soon  after  her 
death,  was  almost  horrible  for  him  to  contem- 
plate. He  had  borne  much  from  this  erratic  wo- 
man, but  had  never  believed  her  capable  of  such 
an  act. 

So  he  said,  in  irritable  tones: 

"Miss  Merrick  gave  me  this  document  a  few 
days  ago,  leading  me  to  believe  it  was  her  last 
will.  I  had  prepared  it  under  her  instruction  and 

232 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

understood  that  it  was  properly  signed.  But  she 
has  herself  torn  off  and  destroyed  the  signature 
and  marked  the  paper  'void,'  so  that  the  will  pre- 
viously made  is  the  only  one  that  is  valid." 

"What  do  you  mean  ?"  cried  Patsy,  in  amaze- 
ment. "Isn't  Kenneth  to  inherit  Elmhurst,  after 
all?" 

"Me!    Me  inherit?"  exclaimed  the  boy. 

"That  is  what  she  promised  me,"  declared 
Patsy,  while  tears  of  indignation  stood  in  her 
eyes.  "I  saw  her  sign  it,  myself,  and  if  she  has 
fooled  me  and  destroyed  the  signature  she's 
nothing  but  an  old  fraud — and  I'm  glad  she's 
dead!" 

With  this  she  threw  herself,  sobbing,  upon  a 
cofa,  and  Louise  and  Beth,  shocked  to  learn  that 
after  all  their  cousin  had  conspired  against  them, 
forebore  any  attempt  to  comfort  her. 

But  Uncle  John,  fully  as  indignant  as  Patri- 
cia, came  to  her  side  and  laid  a  hand  tenderly 
on  the  girl's  head. 

"Never  mind,  little  one,"  he  said.  "Jane  was 
always  cruel  and  treacherous  by  nature,  and  we 
might  have .  expected  she'd  deceive  her  friends 

233 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

even  in  death.  But  you  did  the  best  you  could, 
Patsy,  dear,  and  it  can't  be  helped  now." 

Meantime  the  lawyer  had  been  fumbling  in 
the  box,  and  now  drew  out  the  genuine  will. 

"Give  me  your  attention,  please,"  said  he. 

Patsy  sat  up  and  glared  at  him. 

"I  won't  take  a  cent  of  it!"  she  exclaimed. 

"Be  silent!"  demanded  the  lawyer,  sternly. 
"You  have  all,  I  believe,  been  told  by  Miss  Mer- 
rick  of  the  terms  of  this  will,  which  is  properly 
signed  and  attested.  But  it  is  my  duty  to  read 
it  again,  from  beginning  to  end,  and  I  will  do 
so." 

Uncle  John  smiled  when  his  bequest  was 
mentioned,  and  Beth  frowned.  Louise,  however, 
showed  no  sign  of  disappointment.  There  had 
been  a  miserable  scramble  for  this  inheritance, 
she  reflected,  and  she  was  glad  the  struggle  was 
over.  The  five  thousand  dollars  would  come  in 
handy,  after  all,  and  it  was  that  much  more  than 
she  had  expected  to  have  before  she  received 
Aunt  Jane's  invitation.  Perhaps  she  and  her 
mother  would  use  part  of  it  for  a  European  trip, 
if  their  future  plans  seemed  to  warrant  it. 

234 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

"As  far  as  I  am  concerned,"  said  Patsy,  de- 
fiantly, "you  may  as  well  tear  up  this  will,  too. 
I  won't  have  that  shameful  old  woman's  money." 

"That  is  a  matter  the  law  does  not  allow  you 
to  decide,"  returned  the  lawyer,  calmly.  "You 
will  note  the  fact  that  I  am  the  sole  executor  of 
the  estate,  and  must  care  for  it  in  your  interests 
until  you  are  of  age.  Then  it  will  be  turned 
over  to  you  to  do  as  you  please  with." 

"Can  I  give  it  away,  if  I  want  to?" 

"Certainly.  It  is  now  yours  without  recourse, 
and  although  you  cannot  dispose  of  it  until  you 
are  of  legal  age,  there  will  be  nothing  then  to 
prevent  your  transfering  it  to  whomsoever  you 
please.  I  called  Miss  Merrick's  attention  to  this 
fact  when  you  refused  to  accept  the  legacy." 

"What  did  she  say?" 

"That  you  would  be  more  wise  then,  and 
would  probably  decide  to  keep  it." 

Patsy  turned  impulsively  to  the  boy. 

"Kenneth,"  she  said,  "I  faithfully  promise, 
in  the  presence  of  these  witnesses,  to  give  you 
Elmhurst  and  all  Aunt  Jane's  money  as  soon  as 
I  am  of  age." 

235 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

"Good  for  you,  Patsy,"  said  Uncle  John. 

The  boy  seemed  bewildered. 

"I  don't  want  the  money — really  I  don't!" 
he  protested.  "The  five  thousand  she  left  me 
will  be  enough.  But  I'd  like  to  live  here  at  Elm- 
hurst  for  a  time,  until  it's  sold  or  some  one  else 
comes  to  live  in  the  house!" 

"It's  yours,"  said  Patsy,  with  a  grand  air. 
"You  can  live  here  forever." 

Mr.  Watson  seemed  puzzled. 

"If  that  is  your  wish,  Miss  Patricia,"  bowing 
gravely  in  her  direction,  "I  will  see  that  It  is 
carried  out.  Although  I  am,  in  this  matter,  your 
executor,  I  shall  defer  to  your  wishes  as  much 
as  possible." 

"Thank  you,"  she  said  and  then,  after  a  mo- 
ment's reflection,  she  added :  "Can't  you  give  to 
Louise  and  Beth  the  ten  thousand  dollars  they 
were  to  have  under  the  other  will,  instead  of  the 
five  thousand  each  that  this  one  gives  them  ?" 

"I  will  consider  that  matter,"  he  replied; 
"perhaps  it  can  be  arranged." 

Patsy's  cousins  opened  their  eyes  at  this,  and 
began  to  regard  her  with  more  friendly  glances. 

236 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

To  have  ten  thousand  each  instead  of  five  would 
be  a  very  nice  thing,  indeed,  and  Miss  Patricia 
Doyle  had  evidently  become  a  young  lady  whose 
friendship  it  would  pay  to  cultivate.  If  she  in- 
tended to  throw  away  the  inheritance,  a  portion 
of  it  might  fall  to  their  share. 

They  were  expressing  to  Patsy  their  grati- 
tude when  old  Donald  suddenly  appeared  in  the 
doorway  and  beckoned  to  Uncle  John. 

"Will  you  please  come  to  see  James,  sir?" 
he  asked.  "The  poor  fellow's  dying." 


237 


CHAPTER  XXII. 


JAMES  TELLS  A  STRANGE  STORY. 

Uncle  John  followed  the  coachman  up  the 
stairs  to  the  little  room  above  the  tool-house, 
where  the  old  man  had  managed  to  crawl  after 
old  Sam  had  given  him  a  vicious  kick  in  the 
chest. 

"Is  he  dead?"  he  asked. 

"No,  sir;  but  mortally  hurt,  I'm  thinkin'.  It 
must  have  happened  while  we  were  at  the  fu- 
neral." 

He  opened  the  door,  outside  which  Susan  and 
Oscar  watched  with  frightened  faces,  and  led 
John  Merrick  into  the  room. 

James  lay  upon  his  bed  with  closed  eyes. 
His  shirt,  above  the  breast,  was  reeking  with 
blood. 

238 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

"The  doctor  should  be  sent  for,"  said  Uncle 
John. 

"He'll  be  here  soon,  for  one  of  the  stable 
boys  rode  to  fetch  him.  But  I  thought  you  ought 
to  know  at  once,  sir." 

"Quite  right,  Donald." 

As  they  stood  there  the  wounded  man  moved 
and  opened  his  eyes,  looking  from  one  to  the 
other  of  them  wonderingly.  Finally  he  smiled. 

"Ah,  it's  Donald,"  he  said. 

"Yes,  old  friend,"  answered  the  coachman. 
"And  this  is  Mr.  John." 

"Mr.  John?  Mr.  John?  I  don't  quite  re- 
member you,  sir,"  with  a  slight  shake  of  the  gray 
head.  "And  Donald,  lad,  you've  grown  wonder- 
ful old,  somehow." 

"It's  the  years,  Jeemes,"  was  the  reply. 
"The  years  make  us  all  old,  sooner  or  later." 

The  gardener  seemed  puzzled,  -and  examined 
his  companions  more  carefully.  He  did  not 
seem  to  be  suffering  any  pain. 

Finally  he  sighed. 

"The  dreams  confuse  me,"  he  said,  as  if  to 
explain  something.  "I  can't  always  separate 

239 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

them,  the  dreams  from  the  real.  Have  I  been 
sick,  Donald?" 

"Yes,  lad.     You're  sick  now." 

The  gardener  closed  his  eyes,  and  lay  silent. 

"Do  you  think  he's  sane?"  whispered  Uncle 
John. 

"I  do,  sir.  He's  sane  for  the  first  time  in 
years." 

James  looked  at  them  again,  and  slowly 
raised  his  hand  to  wipe  the  damp  from  his  fore- 
head. 

"About  Master  Tom,"  he  said,  falteringly. 
"Master  Tom's  dead,  ain't  he?" 

"Yes,   Jeems." 

"That  was  real,  then,  an'  no  dream.  I  mind 
it  all,  now —  the  shriek  of  the  whistle,  the  crash, 
and  the  screams  of  the  dying.  Have  I  told  you 
about  it,  Donald?" 

"No,  lad." 

"It  all  happened  before  we  knew  it.  I  was 
on  one  side  the  car  and  Master  Tom  on  the  other. 
My  side  was  on  top,  when  I  came  to  myself, 
and  Master  Tom  was  buried  in  the  rubbish.  God 
knows  how  I  got  him  out,  but  I  did.  Donald, 

240 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

the  poor  master's  side  was  crushed  in,  and  both 
legs  splintered.  I  knew  at  once  he  was  dying, 
when  I  carried  him  to  the  grass  and  laid  him 
down;  and  he  knew  it,  too.  Yes,  the  master 
knew  he  was  done ;  and  him  so  young  and  happy, 
and  just  about  to  be  married  to — to — the  name 
escapes  me,  lad!" 

His  voice  sank  to  a  low  mumble,  and  he 
closed  his  eyes  wearily. 

The  watchers  at  his  side  stood  still  and 
waited.  It  might  be  that  death  had  overtaken 
the  poor  fellow.  But  no;  he  moved  again,  and 
opened  his  eyes,  continuing  his  speech  in  a 
stronger  tone. 

"It  was  hard  work  to  get  the  paper  for  Mas- 
ter Tom,"  he  said;  "but  he  swore  he  must  have 
it  before  he  died.  I  ran  all  the  way  to  the  station 
house  and  back — a  mile  or  more — and  brought 
the  paper  and  a  pen  and  ink,  besides.  It  was  but 
a  telegraph  blank — all  I  could  find.  Naught  but 
a  telegraph  blank,  lad." 

Again  his  voice  trailed  away  into  a  mum- 
bling whisper,  but  now  Uncle  John  and  Donald 

241 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

looked  into  one  another's  eyes  with  sudden  in- 
terest. 

"He  mustn't  die  yet!"  said  the  little  man; 
and  the  coachman  leaned  over  the  wounded  form 
and  said,  distinctly: 

"Yes,  lad ;  I'm  listening." 

"To  be  sure,"  said  James,  brightening  a  bit. 
"So  I  held  the  paper  for  him,  and  the  brakeman 
supported  Master  Tom's  poor  body,  and  he 
wrote  out  the  will  as  clear  as  may  be." 

"The  will!" 

"Sure  enough ;  Master  Tom's  last  will.  Isn't 
my  name  on  it,  too,  where  I  signed  it?  And  the 
conductor's  beside  it,  for  the  poor  brakeman 
didn't  dare  let  him  go  ?  Of  course.  Who  should 
sign  the  will  with  Master  Tom  but  me — his  old 
servant  and  friend?  Am  I  right,  Donald?" 

"Yes,  lad." 

"  'Now,'  says  Master  Tom,  'take  it  to  Law- 
yer Watson,  James,  and  bid  him  care  for  it.  And 
give  my  love  to  Jane' — that's  the  name,  Donald; 
the  one  I  thought  I'd  forgot — 'and  now  lay  me 
back  and  let  me  die.'  His  very  words,  Donald. 
And  we  laid  him  back  and  he  died.  And  he 

242 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

died.      Poor   Master   Tom.      Poor,   poor  young 
Master.     And  him  to — be  married — in  a — " 

"The  paper,  James!"  cried  Uncle  John,  re- 
calling the  dying  man  to  the  present.  "What 
became  of  it?" 

"Sir,  I  do  not  know  you,"  answered  James, 
suspiciously.  "The  paper's  for  Lawyer  Watson. 
It's  he  alone  shall  have  it." 

"Here  I  am,  James,"  cried  the  lawyer,  thrust- 
ing the  others  aside  and  advancing  to  the  bed. 
"Give  me  the  paper.  Where  is  it?  I  am  Lawyer 
Watson!" 

The  gardener  laughed — a  horrible,  croaking 
laugh  that  ended  with  a  gasp  of  pain. 

"You  Lawyer  Watson?"  he  cried,  a  moment 
later,  in  taunting  tones.  "Why,  you  old  fool, 
Si  Watson's  as  young  as  Master  Tom — as  young 
as  I  am!  You — you  Lawyer  Watson!  Ha,  ha, 
ha!" 

"Where  is  the  paper?"  demanded  the  lawyer 
fiercely. 

James  stared  at  him  an  instant,  and  then  sud- 
denly collapsed  and  fell  back  inert  upon  the  bed. 

243 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

"Have  you  heard  all?"  asked  John  Merrick, 
laying  his  hand  on  the  lawyer's  shoulder. 

"Yes ;  I  followed  you  here  as  soon  as  I  could. 
Tom  Bradley  made  another  will,  as  he  lay  dying. 
I  must  have  it,  Mr.  Merrick." 

"Then  you  must  find  it  yourself,"  said  Don- 
ald gravely,  "for  Jemes  is  dead." 

The  doctor,  arriving  a  few  minutes  later,  ver- 
ified the  statement.  It  was  evident  that  the  old 
gardener,  for  years  insane,  had  been  so  'influ- 
enced by  Miss  Merrick's  death  that  he  had  wan- 
dered into  the  stables  where  he  received  his 
death  blow.  When  he  regained  consciousness 
the  mania  had  vanished,  and  in  a  shadowy  way 
he  could  remember  and  repeat  that  last  scene  of 
the  tragedy  that  had  deprived  him  of  his  reason. 
The  story  was  logical  enough,  and  both  Mr. 
Watson  and  John  Merrick  believed  it. 

"Tom  Bradley  was  a  level-headed  fellow  un- 
til he  fell  in  love  with  your  sister,"  said  the  law- 
yer to  his  companion.  "But  after  that  he  would 
not  listen  to  reason,  and  perhaps  he  had  a  pre- 
monition of  his  own  sudden  death,  for  he  made 
a  will  bequeathing  all  he  possessed  to  his  sweet- 

244 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

heart.  I  drew  up  the  will  myself,  and  argued 
against  the  folly  of  it;  but  he  had  his  own  way. 
Afterward,  in  the  face  of  death,  I  believe  he  be- 
came more  sensible,  and  altered  his  will." 

"Yet  James'  story  may  all  be  the  effect  of  a 
disordered  mind,"  said  Uncle  John. 

"I  do  not  think  so;  but  unless  he  has  de- 
stroyed the  paper  in  his  madness,  we  shall  be 
able  to  find  it  among  his  possessions." 

With  this  idea  in  mind,  Mr.  Watson  ordered 
the  servants  to  remove  the  gardener's  body  to  a 
room  in  the  carriage-house,  and  as  soon  as  this 
was  done  he  set  to  work  to  search  for  the  paper, 
assisted  by  John  Merrick. 

"It  was  a  telegraph  blank,  he  said." 

"Yes." 

"Then  we  cannot  mistake  it,  if  we  find  any 
papers  at  all,"  declared  the  lawyer. 

The  most  likely  places  in  James'  room  for 
anything  to  be  hidden  were  a  small  closet,  in 
which  were  shelves  loaded  with  odds  and  ends, 
and  an  old  clothes-chest  that  was  concealed  un- 
derneath the  bed. 

This  last  was  first  examined,  but  found  to 

245 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

contain  merely  an  assortment  of  old  clothing. 
Having  tossed  these  in  a  heap  upon  the  floor  the 
lawyer  begun  an  examination  of  the  closet,  the 
shelves  promising  well  because  of  several  bun- 
dles of  papers  they  contained. 

While  busy  over  these,  he  heard  Uncle  John 
say,  quietly : 

"I've  got  it." 

The  lawyer  bounded  from  the  closet.  The 
little  man  had  been  searching  the  pockets  of  the 
clothing  taken  from  the  chest,  and  from  a  faded 
velvet  coat  he  drew  out  the  telegraph  blank. 

"Is  it  the  will?"  asked  the  lawyer,  eagerly. 

"Read  it  yourself,"  said  Uncle  John. 

Mr.  Watson  put  on  his  glasses. 

"Yes;  this  is  Tom  Bradley's  handwriting, 
sure  enough.  The  will  is  brief,  but  it  will  hold 
good  in  law.  Listen :  'I  bequeath  to  Jane  Mer- 
rick,  my  affianced  bride,  the  possession  and  use 
of  my  estate  during  the  term  of  her  life.  On  her 
death  all  such  possessions,  with  their  accrument, 
shall  be  transferred  to  my  sister,  Katherine 
Bradley,  if  she  then  survives,  to  have  and  to  hold 
by  her  heirs  and  assignees  forever.  But  should 

246 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

she  die  without  issue  previous  to  the  death  of 
Jane  Merrick,  I  then  appoint  my  friend  and  at- 
torney, Silas  Watson,  to  distribute  the  property 
among  such  organized  and  worthy  charities  as 
he  may  select.'  That  is  all." 

"Quite  enough,"  said  Uncle  John,  nodding 
approval. 

"And  it  is  properly  signed  and  witnessed. 
The  estate  is  Kenneth's,  sir,  after  all,  for  he  is 
the  sole  heir  of  his  mother,  Katherine  Bradley 
Forbes.  Hurrah !"  ended  the  lawyer,  waving  the 
yellow  paper  above  his  head. 

"Hurrah!"  echoed  Uncle  John,  gleefully; 
and  the  two  men  shook  hands. 


247 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 


PATSY   ADOPTS   AN    UNCLE. 

Uncle  John  and  Mr.  Watson  did  not  appear 
at  dinner,  being  closeted  in  the  former's  room. 
This  meal,  however,  was  no  longer  a  state  func- 
tion, being  served  by  the  old  servants  as  a  mere 
matter  of  routine.  Indeed,  the  arrangements  of 
the  household  had  been  considerably  changed  by 
the  death  of  its  mistress,  and  without  any  real 
head  to  direct  them  the  servants  were  patiently 
awaiting  the  advent  of  a  new  master  or  mis- 
tress. It  did  not  seem  clear  to  them  yet  whether 
Miss  Patricia  or  Lawyer  Watson  was  to  take 
charge  of  Elmhurst;  but  there  were  few  tears 
shed  for  Jane  Merrick,  and  the  new  regime  could 
not  fail  to  be  an  improvement  over  the  last. 

At  dinner  the  young  folks  chatted  together 
in  a  friendly  and  eager  manner  concerning  the 

248 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

events  of  the  day.  They  knew  of  old  James* 
unfortunate  end,  but  being  unaware  of  its  import 
gave  it  but  passing  attention.  The  main  subject 
of  conversation  was  Aunt  Jane's  surprising  act 
in  annulling  her  last  will  and  forcing  Patricia  to 
accept  the  inheritance  when  she  did  not  want  it. 
Kenneth,  being  at  his  ease  when  alone  with  the 
three  cousins,  protested  that  it  would  not  be 
right  for  Patsy  to  give  him  all  the  estate.  But, 
as  she  was  so  generous,  he  would  accept  enough 
of  his  Uncle  Tom's  money  to  educate  him  as  an 
artist  and  provide  for  himself  an  humble  home. 
Louise  and  Beth,  having  at  last  full  knowledge  of 
their  cousin's  desire  to  increase  their  bequests, 
were  openly  very  grateful  for  her  good  will,  al- 
though secretly  they  could  not  fail  to  resent 
Patsy's  choice  of  the  boy  as  the  proper  heir  of 
his  uncle's  fortune.  The  balance  of  power 
seemed  to  be  in  Patricia's  hands,  however;  so  it 
would  be  folly  at  this  juncture  to  offend  her. 

Altogether,  they  were  all  better  provided  for 
than  they  had  feared  would  be  the  case;  so  the 
little  party  spent  a  pleasant  evening  and  separ- 
ated early,  Beth  and  Louise  to  go  to  their  rooms 

240 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

and  canvass  quietly  the  events  of  the  day,  and  the 
boy  to  take  a  long  stroll  through  the  country 
lanes  to  cool  his  bewildered  brain.  Patsy  wrote 
a  long  letter  to  the  major,  telling  him  she  would 
be  home  in  three  days,  and  then  she  went  to  bed 
and  slept  peacefully. 

After  breakfast  they  were  all  again  sum- 
moned to  the  drawing-room,  to  their  great  sur- 
prise. Lawyer  Watson  and  Uncle  John  were 
there,  looking  as  grave  as  the  important  occa- 
sion demanded,  and  the  former  at  once  proceeded 
to  relate  the  scene  in  James'  room,  his  story  of 
the  death  of  Thomas  Bradley,  and  the  subse- 
quent finding  of  the  will. 

"This  will,  which  has  just  been  recovered," 
continued  the  lawyer,  impressively,  "was  made 
subsequent  to  the  one  under  which  Jane  Mer- 
rick  inherited,  and  therefore  supercedes  it.  Miss 
Jane  had,  as  you  perceive,  a  perfect  right  to  the 
use  of  the  estate  during  her  lifetime,  but  no 
right  whatever  to  will  a  penny  of  it  to  anyone, 
Mr.  Bradley  having  provided  for  that  most  fully. 
For  this  reason  the  will  I  read  to  you  yesterday 
is  of  no  effect,  and  Kenneth  Forbes  inherits 

250 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

from  his  uncle,  through  his  mother,  all  of  the 
estate.'' 

Blank  looks  followed  Mr.  Watson's  state- 
ment. 

"Good-by  to  my  five  thousand,"  said  Uncle 
John,  with  his  chuckling  laugh.  "But  I'm  much 
obliged  to  Jane,  nevertheless." 

"Don't  we  get  anything  at  all?"  asked  Beth, 
with  quivering  lip. 

"No,  my  dear,"  answered  the  lawyer,  gently. 
"Your  aunt  owned  nothing  to  give  you." 

Patsy  laughed.  She  felt  wonderfully  re- 
lieved. 

"Wasn't  I  the  grand  lady,  though,  with 
all  the  fortune  I  never  had?"  she  cried  merrily. 
"But  'twas  really  fine  to  be  rich  for  a  day,  and 
toss  the  money  around  as  if  I  didn't  have  to 
dress  ten  heads  of  hair  in  ten  hours  to  earn  my 
bread  and  butter." 

Louise  smiled. 

"It  was  all  a  great  farce,"  she  said.  "I  shall 
take  the  afternoon  train  to  the  city.  What  an 
old  fraud  our  dear  Aunt  Jane  was!  And  how 

251 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

foolish    of    me    to    return    her    hundred    dollar 
check." 

"I  used  mine,"  said  Beth,  bitterly.  "It's  all 
I'll  ever  get,  it  seems."  And  then  the  thought  of 
the  Professor  and  his  debts  overcame  her  and  she 
burst  into  tears. 

The  boy  sat  doubled  within  his  chair,  so  over- 
come by  the  extraordinary  fortune  that  had  over- 
taken him  that  he  could  not  speak,  nor  think 
even  clearly  as  yet. 

Patsy  tried  to  comfort  Beth. 

"Never  mind,  dear,"  said  she.  "We're  no 
worse  off  than  before  we  came,  are  we?  And 
we've  had  a  mce  vacation.  Let's  forget  all  dis- 
appointments and  be  grateful  to  Aunt  Jane's 
memory.  As  far  as  she  knew,  she  tried  to  be 
good  to  us." 

"I'm  going  home  today,"  said  Beth,  angrily 
drying  her  eyes. 

"We'll  all  go  home,"  said  Patsy,  cheerfully. 

"For  my  part,"  remarked  Uncle  John,  in  a 
grave  voice,  "I  have  no  home." 

Patsy  ran  up  and   put  her  arm  around  his 

9 

neck. 

252 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

"Poor  Uncle  John!"  she  cried.  "Why, 
you're  worse  off  than  any  of  us.  What's  going 
to  become  of  you,  I  wonder?" 

"I'm  wondering  that  myself,"  said  the  little 
man,  meekly. 

"Ah!  You  can  stay  here,"  said  the  boy,  sud- 
denly arousing  from  his  apathy. 

"No,"  replied  Uncle  John,  "the  Merricks  are 
out  of  Elmhurst  now,  and  it  returns  to  its  right- 
ful owners.  You  owe  me  nothing,  my  lad." 

"But  I  like  you,"  said  Kenneth,  "and  you're 
old  and  homeless.  Stay  at  Elmhurst,  and  you 
shall  always  be  welcome." 

Uncle  John  seemed  greatly  affected,  and 
wrung  the  boy's  hand  earnestly.  But  he  shook 
his  head. 

"I've  wandered  all  my  life,"  he  said.  "I  can 
wander  yet." 

"See  here,"  exclaimed  Patsy.  "We're  all 
three  your  nieces,  and  we'll  take  care  of  you  be- 
tween us.  Won't  we,  girls?" 

Louise  smiled  rather  scornfully,  and  Beth 
scowled. 

"My  mother  and  I  live  so  simply  in  our  little 

253 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

flat,"  said  one,  "that  we  really  haven't  extra 
room  to  keep  a  cat.  But  we  shall  be  glad  to  as- 
sist Uncle  John  as  far  as  we  are  able." 

"Father  can  hardly  support  his  own  family," 
said  the  other;  "but  I  will  talk  to  my  mother 
about  Uncle  John  when  I  get  home,  and  see  what 
she  says." 

"Oh,  you  don't  need  to,  indeed !"  cried  Patsy, 
in  great  indignation.  "Uncle  John  is  my  dear 
mother's  brother,  and  he's  to  come  and  live  with 
the  Major  and  me,  as  long  as  he  cares  to.  There's 
room  and  to  spare,  Uncle,"  turning  to  him  and 
clasping  his  hand,  "and  a  joyful  welcome  into 
the  bargain.  No,  no!  say  nothing  at  all,  sir! 
Come  you  shall,  if  I  have  to  drag  you;  and  if 
you  act  naughty  I'll  send  for  the  Major  to  pun- 
ish you!" 

Uncle  John's  eyes  were  moist.  He  looked  on 
Patsy  most  affectionately  and  cast  a  wink  at  Law- 
yer Watson,  who  stood  silently  by. 

"Thank  you,  my  dear,"  said  he;  "but  where's 
the  money  to  come  from?" 

"Money?  Bah!"  she  said.  "Doesn't  the 
Major  earn  a  heap  with  his  bookkeeping,  and 

254 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

haven't  I  had  a  raise  lately?  Why,  we'll  be  as 
snug  and  contented  as  pigs  in  clover.  Can  you 
get  ready  to  come  with  me  today,  Uncle  John?" 

"Yes,"  he  said  slowly.  "I'll  be  ready, 
Patsy." 

So  the  exodus  from  Elmhurst  took  place  that 
very  day,  and  Beth  travelled  in  one  direction, 
while  Louise,  Patsy  and  Uncle  John  took  the 
train  for  New  York.  Louise  had  a  seat  in  the 
parlor  car,  but  Patsy  laughed  at  such  extrava- 
gance. 

"It's  so  much  easier  than  walking,"  she  said 
to  Uncle  John,  "that  the  common  car  is  good 
enough,"  and  the  old  man  readily  agreed  with 
her. 

Kenneth  and  Mr.  Watson  came  to  the  sta- 
tion to  see  them  off,  and  they  parted  with  many 
mutual  expressions  of  friendship  and  good  will. 

Louise,  especially,  pressed  an  urgent  invita- 
tion upon  the  new  master  of  Elmhurst  to  visit 
her  mother  in  New  York,  and  he  said  he  hoped 
to  see  all  the  girls  again.  They  were  really  like 
cousins  to  him,  by  this  time.  And  after  they 
were  all  gone  he  rode  home  on  Nora's  back  quite 

255 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

disconsolate,  in  spite  of  his  wonderful  fortune. 

The  lawyer,  who  had  consented  to  stay  at  the 
mansion  for  a  time,  that  the  boy  might  not  be 
lonely,  had  already  mapped  out  a  plan  for  the 
young  heir's  advancement.  As  he  rode  beside 
Kenneth  he  said: 

"You  ought  to  travel,  and  visit  the  art  cen- 
ters of  Europe,  and  I  shall  try  to  find  a  competent 
tutor  to  go  with  you." 

"Can't  you  go  yourself?"  asked  the  boy. 

The  lawyer  hesitated. 

"I'm  getting  old,  and  my  clients  are  few  and 
unimportant,  aside  from  the  Elmhurst  inter- 
ests," he  said.  "Perhaps  I  can  manage  to  go 
abroad  with  you." 

"I'd  like  that,"  declared  the  boy.  "And  we'd 
stop  in  New  York,  wouldn't  we,  for  a  time?" 

"Of  course.  Do  you  want  to  visit  New  York 
especially  ?" 

"Yes." 

"It's  rather  a  stupid  city,"  said  the  lawyer, 
doubtfully. 

"That  may  be,"  answered  the  boy.  "But 
Patsy  will  be  there,  you  know." 

256 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 


HOME  AGAIN. 

The  Major  was  at  the  station  to  meet  them. 
Uncle  John  had  shyly  suggested  a  telegram,  and 
Patsy  had  decided  they  could  stand  the  expense 
for  the  pleasure  of  seeing  the  old  Dad  an  hour 
sooner. 

The  girl  caught  sight  of  him  outside  the  gates, 
his  face  red  and  beaming  as  a  poppy  in  bloom 
and  his  snowy  moustache  bristling  with  eager- 
ness. At  once  she  dropped  her  bundles  and  flew 
to  the  Major's  arms,  leaving  the  little  man  in 
her  wake  to  rescue  her  belongings  and  follow 
after. 

He  could  hardly  see  Patsy  at  all,  the  Major 
wrapped  her  in  such  an  ample  embrace;  but  bye 
and  bye  she  escaped  to  get  her  breath,  and  then 

257 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

her  eyes  fell  upon  the  meek  form  holding  her 
bundles. 

"Oh,  Dad,"  she  cried,  "here's  Uncle  John, 
who  has  come  to  live  with  us;  and  if  you  don't 
love  him  as  much  as  I  do  I'll  make  your  life 
miserable !" 

"On  which  account,"  said  the  Major,  grasp- 
ing the  little  man's  hand  most  cordially,  "I'll 
love  Uncle  John  like  my  own  brother.  And 
surely,"  he  added,  his  voice  falling  tenderly,  "my 
dear  Violet's  brother  must  be  my  own.  Wel- 
come, sir,  now  and  always,  to  our  little  home. 
It's  modest,  sir;  but  wherever  Patsy  is  the  sun  is 
sure  to  shine." 

"I  can  believe  that,"  said  Uncle  John,  with  a 
nod  and  smile. 

They  boarded  a  car  for  the  long  ride  up 
town,  and  as  soon  as  they  were  seated  Patsy  de- 
manded the  story  of  the  Major's  adventures  with 
his  colonel,  and  the  old  fellow  rattled  away  with 
the  eagerness  of  a  boy,  telling  every  detail  in 
the  most  whimsical  manner,  and  finding  some- 
thing humorous  in  every  incident. 

"Oh,    but    it    was    grand,    Patsy!"    he    ex- 

258 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

claimed,  "and  the  Colonel  wept  on  my  neck  when 
we  parted  and  stained  the  collar  of  me  best  coat, 
and  he  give  me  a  bottle  of  whiskey  that  would 
make  a  teetotaler  roll  his  eyes  in  ecstacy.  'Twas 
the  time  of  my  life." 

"And  you're  a  dozen  years  younger,  Major!" 
she  cried,  laughing,  "and  fit  to  dig  into  work 
like  a  pig  in  clover." 

His  face  grew  grave. 

"But  how  about  the  money,  Patsy  dear?"  he 
asked.  "Did  you  get  nothing  out  of  Jane  Mer- 
rick's  estate?" 

"Not  a  nickle,  Dad.  'Twas  the  best  joke 
you  ever  knew.  I  fought  with  Aunt  Jane  like 
a  pirate  and  it  quite  won  her  heart.  When  she 
died  she  left  me  all  she  had  in  the  world." 

"Look  at  that,  now!"  said  the  Major,  won- 
deringly. 

"Which  turned  out  to  be  nothing  at  all,"  con- 
tinued Patsy.  "For  another  will  was  found, 
made  by  Mr.  Thomas  Bradley,  which  gave  the 
money  to  his  own  nephew  after  Aunt  Jane  died. 
Did  you  ever?" 

"Wonderful !"  said  the  Major,  with  a  sigh. 

259 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

"So  I  was  rich  for  half  a  day,  and  then  poor 
as  ever." 

"It  didn't  hurt  you,  did  it?"  asked  the  Major. 
"You  weren't  vexed  with  disappointment,  were 
you,  Patsy?" 

"Not  at  all,  Daddy." 

"Then  don't  mind  it,  child.  Like  as  not  the 
money  would  be  the  ruination  of  us  all.  Eh, 
sir?"  appealing  to  Uncle  John. 

"To  be  sure,"  said  the  little  man.  "Jane  left 
five  thousand  to  me,  also,  which  I  didn't  get. 
But  I'm  not  sorry  at  all." 

"Quite  right,  sir,"  approved  the  Major,  sym- 
pathetically, "although  it's  easier  not  to  expect 
anything  at  all,  than  to  set  your  heart  on  a  thing 
and  then  not  get  it.  In  your  case,  it  won't  mat- 
ter. Our  house  is  yours,  and  there's  plenty  and 
to  spare." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Uncle  John,  his  face  grave 
but  his  eyes  merry. 

"Oh,  Major!"  cried  Patsy,  suddenly. 
"There's  Danny  Reeves' s  restaurant.  Let's  get 
off  and  have  our  dinner  now;  I'm  as  hungry  as 
a  bear." 

260 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

So  they  stopped  the  car  and  descended,  lug- 
ging all  the  parcels  into  the  little  restaurant, 
where  they  were  piled  into  a  chair  while  the  pro- 
prietor and  the  waiters  all  gathered  around  Patsy 
to  welcome  her  home. 

My,  how  her  eyes  sparkled!  She  fairly 
danced  for  joy,  and  ordered  the  dinner  with  reck- 
less disregard  of  the  bill. 

"Ah,  but  it's  good  to  be  back,"  said  the  little 
Bohemian,  gleefully.  "Tbe  big  house  at  Elm- 
hurst  was  grand  and  stately,  Major,  but  there 
wasn't  an  ounce  of  love  in  the  cupboard." 

"Wasn't  I  there,  Patsy?"  asked  Uncle  John, 
reproachfully. 

"True,  but  now  you're  here;  and  our  love, 
Uncle,  has  nothing  to  do  with  Elmhurst.  I'll  bet 
a  penny  you  liked  it  as  little  as  I  did." 

"You'd  win,"  admitted  the  little  man. 

"And  now,"  said  the  girl  to  the  smiling  wait- 
er, "a  bottle  of  red  California  wine  for  Uncle 
John  and  the  Major,  and  two  real  cigars.  We'll 
be  merry  tonight  if  it  bankrupts  the  Doyle  family 
entirely." 

261 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

But,  after  a  merry  meal  and  a  good  one, 
there  was  no  bill  at  all  when  it  was  called  for. 

Danny  Reeves  himself  came  instead,  and 
made  a  nice  little  speech,  saying  that  Patsy  had 
always  brought  good  luck  to  the  place,  and  this 
dinner  was  his  treat  to  welcome  her  home. 

So  the  Major  thanked  him  with  gracious  dig- 
nity and  Patsy  kissed  Danny  on  his  right  cheek, 
and  then  they  went  away  happy  and  content  to 
find  the  little  rooms  up  the  second  flight  of  the 
old  tenement. 

"It's  no  palace,"  said  Patsy,  entering  +o 
throw  down  the  bundles  as  soon  as  the  Major 
unlocked  the  door,  "but  there's  a  cricket  in  the 
hearth,  and  it's  your  home,  Uncle  John,  as  well 
cs  ours." 

Uncle  John  looked  around  curiously.  The 
place  was  so  plain  after  the  comparative  luxury 
of  Elmhurst,  and  especially  of  the  rose  chamber 
Patsy  had  occupied,  that  the  old  man  could  not 
fail  to  marvel  at  the  girl's  ecstatic  joy  to  find 
herself  in  the  old  tenement  again.  There  was 
one  good  sized  living-room,  with  an  ancient  rag- 
carpet  partially  covering  the  floor,  a  sheet-iron 

262 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

stove,  a  sofa,  a  table  and  three  or  four  old-fash- 
ioned chairs  that  had  probably  come  from  a  sec- 
ond-hand dealer. 

Opening  from  this  were  two  closet-like 
rooms  containing  each  a  bed  and  a  chair,  with  a 
wash-basin  on  a  bracket  shelf.  On  the  walls 
were  a  few  colored  prints  from  the  Sunday  news- 
papers and  one  large  and  fine  photograph  of  a 
grizzled  old  soldier  that  Uncle  John  at  once 
decided  must  represent  "the  Colonel." 

Having  noted  these  details,  Patsy's  uncle 
smoothed  back  his  stubby  gray  hair  with  a  re- 
flective and  half  puzzled  gesture. 

"It's  cozy  enough,  my  child ;  and  I  thank  you 
for  my  welcome,"  said  he.  "But  may  I  enquire 
where  on  earth  you  expect  to  stow  me  in  this 
rather  limited  establishment?" 

"Where?  Have  you  no  eyes,  then?"  she 
asked,  in  astonishment.  "It's  the  finest  sofa  in 
the  world,  Uncle  John,  and  you'll  sleep  there 
like  a  top,  with  the  dear  Colonel's  own  picture 
looking  down  at  you  to  keep  you  safe  and  give 
you  happy  dreams.  Where,  indeed!" 

"Ah;  I  see,"  said  Uncle  John. 

263 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

"And  you  can  wash  in  my  chamber,"  added 
the  Major,  with  a  grand  air,  "and  hang  your 
clothes  on  the  spare  hooks  behind  my  door." 

"I  haven't  many,"  said  Uncle  John,  looking 
thoughtfully  at  his  red  bundle. 

The  Major  coughed  and  turned  the  lamp  a 
little  higher. 

"You'll  find  the  air  fine,  and  the  neighboh- 
hood  respectable,"  he  said,  to  turn  the  subject. 
"Our  modest  apartments  are  cool  in  summer  and 
warm  in  winter,  and  remarkably  reasonable  in 
price.  Patsy  gets  our  breakfast  on  the  stove  yon- 
der, and  we  buy  our  lunches  down  town,  where 
we^work,  and  then  dine  at  Danny  Reeves's  place. 
A  model  home,  sir,  and  a  happy  one,  as  I  hope 
you'll  find  it." 

"I'm  sure  to  be  happy  here,"  said  Uncle  John, 
taking  out  his  pipe.  "May  I  smoke?" 

"Of  course;  but  don't  spoil  the  lace  curtains, 
dear,"  answered  Patsy,  mischievously.  And 
then,  turning  to  her  father,  she  exclaimed :  "Oh, 
daddy!  What  will  the  Uncle  do  all  the  day 
while  we're  at  work?" 

264 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

"That's  as  he  may  choose,"  said  the  Major, 
courteously. 

"Couldn't  we  get  him  a  job?"  asked  Patsy, 
wistfully.  "  Not  where  there'll  be  much  work, 
you  know,  for  the  Uncle  is  old.  But  just  to 
keep  him  out  of  mischief,  and  busy.  He  can't 
hang  around  all  day  and  be  happy,  I  suppose." 

"I'll  look  around,"  answered  the  Major, 
briskly,  as  if  such  a  "job"  was  the  easiest  thing 
in  the  world  to  procure.  "And  meantime — " 

"Meantime,"  said  Uncle  John,  smiling  at 
them,  "I'll  look  around  myself." 

"To  be  sure,"  agreed  the  Major.  "Between 
the  two  of  us  and  Patsy,  we  ought  to  have  no 
trouble  at  all." 

There  was  a  moment  of  thoughtful  silence 
after  this,  and  then  Patsy  said : 

"You  know  it  won't  matter,  Uncle  John,  if 
you  don't  work.  There'll  easy  be  enough  for  all, 
with  the  Major's  wages  and  my  own." 

"By  the  bye,"  added  the  Major,  "if  you  have 
any  money  about  you,  which  is  just  possible, 
sir,  of  course,  you'd  better  turn  it  over  to  Patsy 

265 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

to  keep,  and  let  her  make  you  an  allowance. 
That's  the  way  I  do — it's  very  satisfactory." 

"The  Major's  extravagant,"  exclaimed  Pat- 
sy ;  "and  if  he  has  money  he  wants  to  treat  every 
man  he  meets." 

Uncle  John  shook  his  head,  reproachfully,  at 
the  Major. 

"A  very  bad  habit,  sir,"  he  said. 

"  I  acknowledge  it,  Mr.  Merrick,"  responded 
the  Major.  "But  Patsy  is  fast  curing  me.  And, 
after  all,  it's  a  wicked  city  to  be  carrying  a  fat 
pocketbook  around  in,  as  I've  often  observed." 

"My  pocketbook  is  not  exactly  fat,"  remarked 
Uncle  John. 

"But  you've  money,  sir,  for  I  marked  you 
squandering  it  on  the  train,"  said  Patsy,  severe* 
ly.  "So  out  with  it,  and  we'll  count  up,  and  see 
how  much  of  an  allowance  I  can  make  you  'till 
you  get  the  job." 

Uncle  John  laughed  and  drew  his  chair  up 
to  the  table.  Then  he  emptied  his  trousers' 
pockets  upon  the  cloth,  and  Patsy  gravely  sepa- 
rated the  keys  and  jackknife  from  the  coins  and 
proceeded  to  count  the  money. 

266 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

"Seven  dollars  and  forty-two  cents,"  she  an- 
nounced. "Any  more?" 

Uncle  John  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then 
drew  from  an  inner  pocket  of  his  coat  a  thin 
wallet.  From  this,  when  she  had  received  it 
from  his  hand,  the  girl  abstracted  two  ten  and 
one  five  dollar  bills,  all  crisp  and  new. 

"Good  gracious!"  she  cried,  delightedly.  "All 
this  wealth,  and  you  pleading  poverty'?" 

"I  never  said  I  was  a  pauper,"  returned  Un- 
cle John,  complacently. 

"You  couldn't,  and  be  truthful,  sir,"  de- 
clared the  girl.  "Why,  this  will  last  for  ages, 
and  I'll  put  it  away  safe  and  be  liberal  with  your 
allowance.  Let  me  see,"  pushing  the  coins  about 
with  her  slender  fingers,  "you  just  keep  the  forty- 
two  cents,  Uncle  John.  It'll  do  for  car-fare  and 
a  bit  of  lunch  now  and  then,  and  when  you  get 
broke  you  can  come  to  me." 

"He  smokes,"  observed  the  Major,  signifi- 
cantly. 

"Bah!  a  pipe,"  said  Patsy.  "And  Bull  Dur- 
ham is  only  five  cents  a  bag,  and  a  bag  ought  to 
last  a  week.  And  every  Saturday  night,  sir,  you 

267 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

shall  have  a  cigar  after  dinner,  with  the  Major. 
It's  it  our  regular  practice." 

"Thank  you,  Patsy,"  said  Uncle  John,  meek- 
ly, and  gathered  up  his  forty-two  cents. 

"You've  now  a  home,  and  a  manager,  sir, 
with  money  in  the  bank  of  Patsy  &  Company, 
Limited,"  announced  the  Major.  "You  ought 
to  be  very  contented,  sir." 

"I  am,"  replied  Uncle  John. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 


UNCLE    JOHN    ACTS    QUEERLY. 

When  Patsy  and  the  Major  had  both  de- 
parted for  work  on  Monday  morning  Uncle  John 
boarded  a  car  and  rode  downtown  also.  He 
might  have  accompanied  them  part  of  the  way, 
but  feared  Patsey  might  think  him  extravagant 
if  she  found  him  so  soon  breaking  into  the  work- 
ing fund  of  forty-two  cents,  which  she  charged 
him  to  be  careful  of. 

He  seemed  to  be  in  no  hurry,  for  it  was  early 
yet,  and  few  of  the  lower  Broadway  establish- 
ments were  open.  To  pass  the  time  he  turned 
into  a  small  restaurant  and  had  coffee  and  a  plate 
of  cakes,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  Patsy  had  so 
recently  prepared  coffee  over  the  sheet-iron  stove 
and  brought  some  hot  buns  from  a  near-by  bak- 
ery. He  was  not  especially  hungry;  but  in  sip- 

269 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

ping  the  coffee  and  nibbling  the  cakes  he  passed 
the  best  part  of  an  hour. 

He  smiled  when  he  paid  out  twenty-five  cents 
of  his  slender  store  for  the  refreshment.  With 
five  cents  for  car-fare  he  had  now  but  twelve 
cents  left  of  the  forty-two  Patsy  had  given  him! 
Talk  about  the  Major's  extravagance:  it  could 
not  be  compared  to  Uncle  John's. 

Another  hour  was  spent  in  looking  in  at  the 
shop  windows.  Then,  suddenly  noting  the  time, 
Uncle  John  started  down  the  street  at  a  swing- 
ing pace,  and  presently  paused  before  a  building 
upon  which  was  a  sign,  reading:  "Isham,  Mar- 
vin &  Co.,  Bankers  and  Brokers."  A  prosperous 
looking  place,  it  seemed,  with  a  host  of  clerks 
busily  \vorking  in  the  various  departments.  Un- 
cle John  walked  in,  although  the  uniformed  offi- 
cial at  the  door  eyed  him  suspiciously. 

"Mr.  Marvin  in?"  he  inquired,  pleasantly. 

"Not  arrived  yet,"  said  the  official,  who  wore 
a  big  star  upon  his  breast. 

"I'll  wait,"  announced  Uncle  John,  and  sat 
down  upon  a  leather-covered  bench. 

The  official  strutted  up  and  down,  watching 

270 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

the  customers  who  entered  the  bank  or  departed, 
and  keeping  a  sharp  watch  on  the  little  man  upon 
the  bench. 

Another  hour  passed. 

Presently  Uncle  John  jumped  up  and  ap- 
proached the  official. 

"Hasn't  Mr.  Marvin  arrived  yet?"  he  en- 
quired, sharply. 

"An  hour  ago,"  was  the  reply. 

",Then  why  didn't  you  let  me  know?  I  want 
to  see  him." 

"He's  busy  mornings.  Has  to  look  over  the 
mail.  He  can't  see  you  yet." 

"Well,  he  will  see  me,  and  right  away.  Tell 
him  John  Merrick  is  here." 

"Your  card,  sir." 

"I  haven't  any.     My  name  will  do." 

The  official  hesitated,  and  glanced  at  the  lit- 
tle man's  seedy  garb  and  countryfied  air.  But 
something  in  the  angry  glance  of  the  shrewd  eye 
made  him  fear  he  had  made  a  mistake.  He 
opened  a  small  door  and  disappeared. 

In  a  moment  the  door  burst  open  to  allow 
egress  to  a  big,  red-bearded  man  in  his  shirt- 

271 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

sleeves,  who  glanced  around  briefly  and  then 
rushed  at  Uncle  John  and  shook  both  his  hands 
cordially. 

"My  dear  Mr.  -Merrick !"  he  exclaimed,  "I'm 
delighted  and  honored  to  see  you  here.  Come 
to  my  room  at  once.  A  great  surprise  and  pleas- 
ure, sir!  Thomas,  I'm  engaged!" 

This  last  was  directed  at  the  head  of  the 
amazed  porter,  who,  as  the  door  slammed  in  his 
face,  nodded  solemnly  and  remarked : 

"Fooled  ag'in,  and  I  might  'a'  known  it. 
Drat  these  'ere  billionaires!  Why  don't  they 
dress  like  decent  people?" 

Uncle  John  had  been  advised  by  Patsy  where 
to  go  for  a  good  cheap  luncheon;  but  he  did  not 
heed  her  admonition.  Instead,  he  rode  in  a  car- 
riage beside  the  banker  to  a  splendid  club,  where 
he  was  served  with  the  finest  dishes  the  chef 
could  provide  on  short  notice.  Moreover,  Mr. 
Marvin  introduced  him  to  several  substantial 
gentlemen  as  "Mr.  John  Merrick,  of  Portland"; 
and  each  one  bowed  profoundly  and  declared  he 
was  "highly  honored." 

Yet  Uncle  John  seemed  in  no  way  elated  by 

272 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

this  reception.  He  retained  his  simple  manner, 
although  his  face  was  more  grave  than  Patsy 
had  often  seen  it;  and  he  talked  with  easy  famil- 
iarity of  preferred  stocks  and  amalgamated  in- 
terests and  invested  securities  and  many  other 
queer  things  that  the  banker  seemed  to  under- 
stand fully  and  to  listen  to  with  respectful  def- 
erence. 

Then  they  returned  to  the  bank  for  another 
long  session  together,  and  there  was  quite  an 
eager  bustle  among  the  clerks  as  they  stretched 
their  necks  to  get  a  glimpse  of  Mr.  Marvin's 
companion. 

"It's  John  Merrick"  passed  from  mouth  to 
mouth,  and  the  uniformed  official  strutted  from 
one  window  to  another,  saying: 

"I  showed  him  in  myself.  And  he  came  in- 
to the  bank  as  quiet  like  as  anyone  else  would." 

But  he  didn't  go  away  quietly,  you  may  be 
sure.  Mr.  Marvin  and  Mr.  Isham  both  escorted 
their  famous  client  to  the  door,  where  the  Mar- 
vin carriage  had  been  ordered  to  be  in  readiness 
for  Mr.  Mer rick's  service. 

But  Uncle  John  waived  it  aside  disdainfully. 

273 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

"I'll  walk,"  he  said.  "There  are  some  other 
errands  to  attend  to." 

So  they  shook  his  hand  and  reminded  him 
of  a  future  appointment  and  let  him  go  his  way. 
In  a  moment  the  great  Broadway  crowd  had 
swallowed  up  John  Merrick,  and  five  minutes 
later  he  was  thoughtfully  gazing  into  a  shop 
window  again. 

By  and  bye  he  bethought  himself  of  the  time, 
and  took  a  cab  uptown.  He  had  more  than  the 
twelve  cents  in  his  pocket,  now,  besides  the 
check  book  which  was  carefully  hidden  away  in 
an  inside  pocket;  so  the  cost  of  the  cab  did  not 
worry  him.  He  dismissed  the  vehicle  near  an 
uptown  corner  and  started  to  walk  hastily  to- 
ward Danny  Reeves's  restaurant,  a  block  away, 
Patsy  was  standing  in  the  doorway,  anxiously 
watching  for  him. 

"Oh,  Uncle  John,"  she  cried,  as  he  strolled 
up,  "I've  been  really  worried  about  you;  it's 
such  a  big  city,  and  you  a  stranger.  Do  you 
know  you're  ten  minutes  late?" 

"I'm  sorry,"  he  said,  humbly ;  "but  it's  a  long 
way  here  from  downtown." 

274 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

"Didn't  you  take  a  car?" 

"No,  my  dear." 

"Why,  you  fooolish  old  Uncle!  Come  in  at 
once.  The  Major  has  been  terribly  excited  over 
you,  and  swore  you  should  not  be  allowed  to 
wander  through  the  streets  without  someone  to 
look  after  you.  But  what  could  we  do  ?" 

"I'm  all  right,"  declared  Uncle  John,  cordi- 
ally shaking  hands  with  Patsy's  father.  "Have 
you  had  a  good  day?" 

"Fine,"  said  the  Major.  "They'd  missed  me 
at  the  office,  and  were  glad  to  have  me  back. 
And  what  do  you  think?  I've  got  a  raise." 

"Really?"  said  Uncle  John,  seeing  it  was 
expected  of  him. 

"For  a  fact.  It's  Patsy's  doing,  I've  no 
doubt.  She  wheedled  the  firm  into  giving  me  a 
vacation,  and  now  they're  to  pay  me  twelve  a 
week  instead  of  ten." 

"Is  that  enough?"  asked  Uncle  John,  doubt- 
fully. 

"More  than  enough,  sir.  I'm  getting  old, 
and  can't  earn  as  much  as  a  younger  man.  But 

275 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

I'm  pretty  tough,  and  mean  to  hold  onto  that 
twelve  a  week  as  long  as  possible." 

"What  pay  do  you  get,  Patsy?"  asked  Uncle 
John. 

"Almost  as  much  as  Daddy.  We're  dread- 
fully rich,  Uncle  John;  so  you  needn't  worry  if 
you  don't  strike  a  job  yourself  all  at  once." 

"Any  luck  today,  sir,"  asked  the  Major, 
tucking  a  napkin  under  his  chin  and  beginning 
on  the  soup. 

Uncle  John  shook  his  head. 

"Of  course  not,"  said  Patsy,  quickly.  "It's 
too  early,  as  yet.  Don't  hurry,  Uncle  John. 
Except  that  it'll  keep  you  busy,  there's  no  need 
for  you  to  work  at  all." 

"You're  older  than  I  am,"  suggested  the 
Major,  "and  that  makes  it  harder  to  break  in. 
But  there's  no  hurry,  as  Patsy  says." 

Uncle  John  did  not  seem  to  be  worrying  Dver 
his  idleness.  He  kept  on  questioning  his  brother- 
in-law  and  his  niece  about  their  labors,  and  after- 
ward related  to  them  the  sights  he  had  seen  In 
the  shop  windows.  Of  course  he  could  not  sat 
much  after  the  feast  he  had  had  at  luncheon,  and 

276 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

this  disturbed  Patsy  a  little.  She  insisted  he 
was  tired,  and  carried  her  men  away  to  the  tene- 
ment rooms  as  soon  as  possible,  where  she  in- 
stalled them  at  the  table  to  play  cribbage  until 
bed-time. 

The  next  day  Uncle  John  seemed  to  be  busy 
enough,  although  of  course  Patsy  could  not 
know  what  he  was  doing.  He  visited  a  real- 
estate  office,  for  one  thing,  and  then  telephoned 
Isham,  Marvin  &  Co.  and  issued  a  string  of 
orders  in  a  voice  not  nearly  so  meek  and  mild 
as  it  was  when  he  was  in  Patsy's  presence.  What- 
ever he  had  undertaken  required  time,  for  all 
during  the  week  he  left  the  tenement  directly 
the  Major  and  his  daughter  had  gone  to  the 
city,  and  bustled  about  until  it  was  time  to  meet 
them  for  dinner  at  the  restaurant.  But  he  was 
happy  and  in  good  spirits  and  enjoyed  his  even- 
ing game  of  cribbage  with  the  Major  exceed- 
ingly. 

"You  must  be  nearly  bankrupt,  by  this  time," 
said  Patsy  on  Tuesday  evening. 

"It's  an  expensive  city  to  live  in,"  sighed 
Uncle  John. 

277 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

She  gave  him  fifty  cents  of  his  money,  then, 
and  on  Friday  fifty  cents  more. 

"After  a  time,"  she  said,  "you'll  manage  to 
get  along  with  less.  It's  always  harder  to  econo- 
mize at  first." 

"How  about  the  bills  ?"  he  inquired.  "Don't 
I  pay  my  share  of  them?" 

"Your  expenses  are  nothing  at  all,"  declared 
the  Major,  with  a  wave  of  his  hand. 

"But  my  dinners  at  Danny  Reeves'  place 
must  cost  a  lot/'  protested  Uncle  John. 

"Surely  not;  Patsy  has  managed  all  that  for 
a  trifle,  and  the  pleasure  of  your  company  more 
than  repays  us  for  the  bit  of  expense." 

On  Saturday  night  there  was  a  pint  of  red 
wine  for  the  two  men,  and  then  the  weekly 
cigars  were  brought — very  inexpensive  ones,  to 
be  sure.  The  first  whiff  he  took  made  Uncle 
John  cough;  but  the  Major  smoked  so  grace- 
fully and  with  such  evident  pleasure  that  his 
brother-in-law  clung  manfully  to  the  cigar,  and 
succeeded  in  consuming  it  to  the  end. 

"Tomorrow  is  the  day  of  rest,"  announced 

278 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

Patsy,  "  so  we'll  all  go  for  a  nice  walk  in  the 
oarks  after  breakfast." 

"And  we  sleep  'till  eight  o'clock,  don't  we, 
Patsy?"  asked  the  Major. 

"Of  course." 

"And  the  eggs  for  breakfast?" 

"I've  bought  them  already,  three  for  a  nicklc 
You  don't  care  for  more  than  one,  do  you,  Uncle 
John?" 

"No,  my  dear." 

"It's  our  Sunday  morning  extra —  an  egg 
apiece.  The  Major  is  so  fond  of  them." 

"And  so  am  I,   Patsy." 

"And  now  we'll  have  our  cribbage  and  get 
to  bed  early.  Heigho!  but  Sunday's  a  great 
day  for  folks  that  work." 


279 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 


A    BUNCH    OF    KEYS. 

Uncle  John  did  not  sleep  well.  Perhaps  he 
had  a  guilty  conscience.  Anyway,  he  tossed 
about  a  good  deal  on  the  sofa-bed  in  the  living- 
room,  and  wore  himself  out  to  such  an  extent 
that  when  Patsy  got  up  at  eight  o'clock  her  uncle 
had  fallen  into  his  first  sound  sleep. 

She  never  disturbed  him  until  she  had  made 
the  fire  and  cooked  the  coffee  and  boiled  the 
three  white  eggs.  By  this  time  the  Major  was 
dressed  and  shaved,  and  he  aroused  Uncle  John 
and  bade  him  hurry  into  the  closet  and  make  his 
toilet,  "so  that  Patsy  could  put  the  house  to 
rights.  " 

Uncle  John  obeyed  eagerly,  and  was  ready 
as  soon  as  the  Major  had  brought  the  smoking 
rolls  from  the  bakery.  Ah,  but  it  was  a  merry 

280 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

breakfast;  and  a  delicious  one  into  the  bargain. 
Uncle  John  seemed  hungry,  and  looked  at  the 
empty  egg-shells  regretfully. 

"Next  time,  Patsy,"  he  said,  "you  must  buy 
six  eggs." 

"Look  at  his  recklessness!"  cried  Patsy, 
laughing.  "You're  just  as  bad  as  the  Major, 
every  bit.  If  you  men  hadn't  me  for  a  guardian 
you'd  be  in  the  poorhouse  in  a  month." 

"But  we  have  you,  my  dear,"  said  Uncle 
John,  smiling  into  her  dancing  eyes;  "so  we 
won't  complain  at  one  egg  instead  of  two." 

Just  then  someone  pounded  on  the  door,  and 
the  girl  ran  to  open  it.  There  was  a  messenger 
boy  outside,  looking  smart  and  neat  in  his  blue- 
and-gold  uniform,  and  he  touched  his  cap  polite- 
ly to  the  girl. 

"Miss  Patricia  Doyle?" 

"That's  me." 
"A  parcel  for  you.     Sign  here,  please." 

Patsy  signed,  bothering  her  head  the  while 
to  know  what  the  little  package  contained  and 
who  could  have  sent  it.  Then  the  boy  was  gone, 

281 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

and  she  came  back  slowly  to  the  breakfast  table, 
with  the  thing  in  her  hand. 

"What  is  it,  Patsy?"  asked  the  Major,  curi- 
ously. 

"I'm  dying  to  know,  myself,"  said  the  girl. 

Uncle  John  finished  his  coffee,  looking  un- 
concerned. 

"A  good  way  is  to  open  it,"  remarked  the 
Major. 

It  was  a  very  neat  package,  wrapped  in  fine 
paper  and  sealed  with  red  wax.  Patsy  turned  it 
over  once  or  twice,  and  then  broke  the  wax  and 
untied  the  cord. 

A  bunch  of  keys  fell  out  first — seven  of  them, 
strung  on  a  purple  ribbon — and  then  a  flat,  im- 
pressive looking  letter  was  discovered. 

The  Major  stared  open-mouthed.  Uncle 
John  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  watched  the 
girl's  face. 

"There's  a  mistake,"  said  Patsy,  quite  be- 
wildered. Then  she  read  her  name  upon  the 
wrapper,  quite  plainly  written,  and  shook  her 
head.  "It's  for  me,  all  right.  But  what  does 
it  mean?" 

282 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

"Why  not  read  the  letter?"  suggested  the 
Major. 

So  she  opened  the  big  envelope  and  unfolded 
the  stiff  paper  and  read  as  follows: 

"Miss  Patricia  Doyle,  Becker's  Flats,  Dug- 
gan  Street,  New  York.  Dear  Miss  Doyle:  An 
esteemed  client  of  our  house,  who  desires  to  re- 
main unknown,  has  placed  at  your  disposal  the 
furnished  apartments  "D,"  at  3708  Willing 
Square,  for  the  period  o5  three  years,  or  as  long 
thereafter  as  you  may  care  to  retain  them.  Our 
client  begs  you  to  consider  everything  the  apart- 
ments contain  as  your  own,  and  to  use  it  freely 
as  it  may  please  you.  All  rentals  and  rates  are 
paid  in  advance,  and  you  are  expected  to  take 
possession  at  once.  Moreover,  our  firm  is  com- 
manded to  serve  you  in  any  and  every  way  you 
may  require,  and  it  will  be  our  greatest  pleasure 
to  be  of  use  to  you.  The  keys  to  the  apartments 
are  enclosed  herewith. 

"Most  respectfully, 

"Isham,  Marvin  &  Co." 

Having  read  this  to  the  end,  in  a  weak  voice 
and  with  many  pauses,  Miss  Patricia  Doyle 

283 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

sat  down  in  her  chair  with  strange  abruptness 
and  stared  blankly  at  her  father.  The  Major 
stared  back.  So  did  Uncle  John,  when  her  eyes 
roved  toward  his  face. 

Patricia  turned  the  keys  over,  and  jingled 
them.  Then  she  referred  to  the  letter  again. 

"Apartments  D,  at  3708  Willing  Square. 
Where's  that?" 

The  Major  shook  his  head.  So  did  Uncle 
John. 

"Might  look  in  a  directory"  suggested  the 
latter,  uncertainly. 

"Of  course,"  added  the  Major. 

"But  what  does  it  all  mean?"  demanded 
Patsy,  with  sudden  fierceness.  "Is  it  a  joke? 
Isham,  Marvin  &  Co.,  the  great  bankers !  What 
do  I  know  of  them,  or  they  of  me  ?" 

"That  isn't  the  point,"  observed  the  Major, 
reflectively.  "Who's  their  unknown  and  mys- 
terious client?  That's  the  question." 

"To  be  sure,"  said  Uncle  John.  "They're 
only  the  agents.  You  must  have  a  fairy  god- 
mother, Patsy." 

She  laughed  at  the  idea,  and  shook  her  head. 

284 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

"They  don't  exist  in  these  days,  Uncle  John. 
But  the  whole  thing  must  be  a  joke,  and  nothing 
more." 

"We'll  discover  that,"  asserted  the  Major, 
shrewdly  scrutinizing  the  letter,  which  he  had 
taken  from  Patsy's  hands.  "It  surely  looks 
genuine  enough,  on  the  face  of  it.  I've  seen  the 
bank  letter-head  before,  and  this  is  no  forgery, 
you  can  take  my  word.  Get  your  things  on, 
Patsy.  Instead  of  walking  in  the  park  we'll 
hunt  up  Willing  Square,  and  we'll  take  the  keys 
with  us." 

"A  very  good  idea,"  said  Uncle  John.  "I'd 
like  to  go  with  you,  if  I  may." 

"Of  course  you  may,"  answered  the  girl. 
"You're  one  of  the  family  now,  Uncle  John,  and 
you  must  help  us  to  unravel  the  mystery." 

The  Major  took  off  his  carpet  slippers  and 
pulled  on  his  boots,  while  Patricia  was  getting 
ready  for  the  walk.  Uncle  John  wandered 
around  the  room  aimlessly  for  a  time,  and  then 
took  off  his  black  tie  and  put  on  the  white  one. 

Patsy  noticed  this,  when  she  came  out  of 
her  closet,  and  laughed  merrily. 

285 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

"You  mustn't  be  getting  excited,  Uncle  John, 
until  we  see  how  this  wonderful  adventure  turns 
out,"  she  said.  "But  I  really  must  wash  and 
iron  that  necktie  for  you,  if  you're  going  to  wear 
it  on  Sundays." 

"Not  a  bad  idea,"  said  the  Major.  "But 
come,  are  we  all  ready?" 

They  walked  down  the  rickety  steps  very 
gravely  and  sedately,  Patsy  jingling  the  keys  as 
they  went,  and  made  their  vay  to  the  corner  drug 
store,  where  the  Major  searched  in  the  directory 
for  Willing  Square. 

To  his  surprise  it  proved  to  be  only  a  few 
blocks  away. 

"But  it's   in  the  dead  swell  neighborhood," 
he  explained,  "where  I  have  no  occasion  to  visit. 
We  can  walk  it  in  five  minutes." 
Patsy  hesitated. 

"Really,  it's  no  use  going,  Dad,"  she  pro- 
tested. "It  isn't  in  reason  that  I'd  have  a  place 
presented  me  in  a  dead  swell  neighborhood. 
Now,  is  it?" 

"We'll  have  to  go,  just  the  same,"  said  Uncle 

286 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

John.  "I  couldn't  sleep  a  wink  tonight  it  we 
didn't  find  out  what  this  all  means." 

"True  enough,"  agreed  the  Major.  "Come 
along,  Patsy:  it's  this  way." 

Willing  Square  was  not  very  big,  but  it  was 
beautiful  with  flowers  and  well  tended  and 
3807  proved  to  be  a  handsome  building  with  a 
white  marble  front,  situated  directly  on  a  corner. 
The  Major  examined  it  critically  from  the  side- 
walk, and  decided  it  contained  six  suites  of  apart- 
ments, three  on  each  side. 

"D  must  be  the  second  floor  to  the  right," 
he  said,  "and  that's  a  fine  location,  sure  enough." 

A  porter  appeared  at  the  front  door,  which 
stood  open,  and  examined  the  group  upon  the 
sidewalk  with  evident  curiosity. 

Patsy  walked  up  to  him,  and  ignoring  the 
big  gold  figures  over  the  entrance  she  enquired: 

"Is  this  3807  Willing  Square?" 

"Yes,  Miss,"  answered  the  porter;  "are  you 
Miss  Doyle?" 

"I  am,"  she  answered,  surprised. 

"One  flight  up,  Miss,  and  turn  to  the  right," 
he  continued,  promptly ;  and  then  he  winked  over 

287 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

the  girl's  head  at  Uncle  John,  who  frowned  so 
terribly  that  the  man  drew  aside  and  disappeared 
abruptly.  The  Major  and  Patsy  were  staring  at 
one  another,  however,  and  did  not  see  this  by- 
play. 

"Let's  go  up,"  said  the  Major,  in  a  husky 
voice,  and  proceeded  to  mount  the  stairs. 

Patsy  followed  close  behind,  and  then  came 
Uncle  John.  One  flight  up  they  paused  at  a 
door  marked  "D",  upon  the  panel  of  which  was 
a  rack  bearing  a  card  printed  with  the  word 
"Doyle." 

"Well,  well!"  gasped  the  Major.  "Who'd 
have  thought  it,  at  all  at  all!" 

Patsy,  with  trembling  fingers,  put  a  key  in 
the  lock,  and  after  one  or  two  efforts  opened  the 
door. 

The  sun  was  shining  brilliantly  into  a  tiny 
reception  hall,  furnished  most  luxuriously. 

The  Major  placed  his  hat  on  the  rack,  and 
Uncle  John  followed  suit. 

No  one  spoke  a  word  as  they  marched  in 
humble  procession  into  the  living-room,  their  feet 
pressing  without  sound  into  the  thick  rugs. 

288 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

Eveything  here  was  fresh  and  new,  but  selected 
with  excellent  taste  and  careful  attention  to  de- 
tail. Not  a  thing  was  lacking,  from  the  pretty 
upright  piano  to  the  enameled  clock  ticking  upon 
the  mantel.  The  dining-room  was  a  picture,  in- 
deed, with  stained-glass  windows  casting  their 
soft  lights  through  the  draperies  and  the  side- 
board shining  with  silver  and  glass.  There  was 
a  cellarette  in  one  corner,  the  Major  noticed,  and 
it  was  well  stocked. 

Beyond  was  a  pantry  with  well  filled  shelves 
and  then  the  kitchen — this  last  filled  with  every 
article  that  could  possibly  be  needed.  In  a  store- 
room were  enough  provisions  to  stock  a  grocery- 
store  and  Patsy  noted  with  amazement  that  there 
was  ice  in  the  refrigerator,  with  cream  and  milk 
and  butter  cooling  beside  it. 

They  felt  now  as  if  they  were  intruding  in 
some  fairy  domain.  It  was  all  exquisite,  though 
rather  tiny;  but  such  luxury  was  as  far  removed 
from  the  dingy  rooms  they  had  occupied  as  could 
well  be  imagined.  The  Major  coughed  and 
ahemmed  continually;  Patsy  ah'd  and  oh'd  and 
seemed  half  frightened ;  Uncle  John  walked  after 

289 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

them  silently,  but  with  a  pleased  smile  that  was 
almost  childish  upon  his  round  and  rugged  face. 

Across  the  hall  were  three  chambers,  each 
with  a  separate  bath,  while  one  had  a  pretty 
dressing-room  added. 

"This  will  be  Patsy's  room,"  said  the  Major, 
with  a  vast  amount  of  dignity. 

"Of  course/'  said  Uncle  John.  "The  pins 
on  the  cushion  spell  'Patricia/  don't  they?" 

"So  they  do!"  cried  Patsy,  greatly  delighted. 

"And  this  room,"  continued  the  Major, 
passing  into  the  next,  "will  be  mine.  There  are 
fine  battle-scenes  on  the  wall;  and  I  declare, 
there's  just  the  place  for  the  colonel's  photo- 
graph over  the  dresser!" 

"Cigars,  too,"  said  Patsy,  opening  a  little 
cabinet;  "but  'twill  be  a  shame  to  smoke  in  this 
palace." 

"Then  I  won't  live  here!"  declared  the  Ma- 
jor, stoutly,  but  no  one  heeded  him. 

"Here  is  Uncle  John's  room,"  exclaimed  the 
girl,  entering  the  third  chamber. 

"Mine?"  enquired  Uncle  John  in  mild  sur- 
prise. 

290 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

"Sure,  sir;  you're  one  of  the  family,  and  I'm 
glad  it's  as  good  as  the  Major's,  every  bit." 

Uncle  John's  eyes  twinkled. 

"I  hope  the  bed  is  soft,"  he  remarked,  press- 
ing it  critically. 

"It's  as  good  as  the  old  sofa,  any  day,"  said 
Patsy,  indignantly. 

Just  then  a  bell  tinkled,  and  after  looking  at 
one  another  in  silent  consternation  for  a  moment, 
the  Major  tiptoed  stealthily  to  the  front  door,  fol- 
lowed by  the  others. 

"What'll  we  do?"  asked  Patsy,  in  distress. 

"Better  open  it,"  suggested  Uncle  John, 
calmly. 

The  Major  did  so,  and  there  was  a  little  maid 
bowing  and  smiling  outside.  She  entered  at 
once,  closing  the  door  behind  her,  and  bowed 
again. 

"This  is  my  new  mistress,  I  suppose,"  she 
said,  looking  at  Patsy.  "I  am  your  servant,  Miss 
Patricia." 

Patsy  gasped  and  stared  at  her.  The  maid 
was  not  much  older  than  she  was,  but  she  looked 
pleasant  and  intelligent  and  in  keeping  with  the 

291 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

rooms.  She  wore  a  gray  dress  with  white  col- 
lar and  white  apron  and  cap,  and  seemed  so 
dainty  and  sweet  that  the  Major  and  Uncle  John 
approved  her  at  once. 

Patsy  sat  down,  from  sheer  lack  of  strength 
to  stand  up. 

"Who  hired  you,  then?"  she  asked. 

"A  gentleman  'from  the  bank,"  was  the  re- 
ply. "I'm  Mary,  if  you  please,  Miss.  And  my 
wages  are  all  arranged  for  in  advance,  so  there 
will  be  nothing  for  you  to  pay,"  said  the  little 
maid. 

"Can  you  cook?"  asked  Patsy,  curiously. 

"Yes,  Miss,"  with  a  smile.  "The  dinner  will 
be  ready  at  one  o'clock." 

"Oh;  you've  been  here  before,  then?" 

"Two  days,  Miss,  getting  ready  for  you." 

"And  where  will  you  sleep?" 

"I've  a  little  room  beyond  the  kitchen. 
Didn't  you  see  it,  Miss  Patricia?" 

"No,  Mary." 

"Anything  more  at  present,  Miss  Patricia?" 

"No,  Mary." 

The  maid  bowed  again,  and  disappeared  to- 

292 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

ward  the  kitchen,  leaving  an  awe-struck  group 
behind  her. 

The  Major  whistled  softly.  Uncle  John 
seemed  quite  unconcerned.  Patsy  took  out  her 
handkerchief.  The  tears  would  come  in  spite  of 
her  efforts. 

"I — I — I'm  going  to  have  a  good  cry,"  she 
sobbed,  and  rushed  into  the  living-room  to  throw 
herself  flat  upon  the  divan. 

"It's  all  right,"  said  the  Major,  answering 
Uncle  John's  startled  look;  "the  cry  will  do  her 
good.  I've  half  a  mind  to  join  her  myself." 

But  he  didn't.  He  followed  Uncle  John  into 
the  latter's  room  and  smoked  one  of  the  newly- 
discovered  cigars  while  the  elder  man  lay  back 
in  an  easy  chair  and  silently  puffed  his  pipe. 

By  and  bye  Patsy  joined  them,  no  longer 
crying  but  radiant  with  glee. 

"Tell  me,  Daddy,"  said  she,  perching  on  the 
arm  of  the  Major's  chair,  "who  gave  me  all  this, 
do  you  think?" 

"Not  me,"  answered  the  Major,  positively. 
"I  couldn't  do  it  on  twelve  a  week,  anyhow  at 
all." 

293 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

"And  you  robbed  me  of  all  my  money  when 
I  came  to  town,"  said  Uncle  John. 

"Stop  joking,"  said  the  girl.  'There's  no 
doubt  this  place  is  intended  for  us,  is  there?" 

"None  at  all,"  declared  the  Major.  "It's 
ours  for  three  years,  and  not  a  penny  to  pay." 

"Well,  then,  do  you  think  it's  Kenneth?" 

The  Major  shook  his  head. 

"I  don't  know  the  lad,"  he  said,  "  and  he 
might  be  equal  to  it,  although  I  doubt  it.  But  he 
can't  touch  his  money  till  he  comes  of  age,  and 
it  isn't  likely  his  lawyer  guardian  would  allow 
such  extravagances." 

"Then  who  can  it  be?" 

"I  can't  imagine." 

"It  doesn't  seem  to  matter,"  remarked  Uncle 
John,  lighting  a  fresh  pipe.  "You're  not  sup- 
posed to  ask  questions,  I  take  it,  but  to  enjoy 
your  new  home  as  much  as  you  can." 

"Ex — actly !"  agreed  the  Major. 

"I've  been  thinking,"  continued  Uncle  John, 
"that  I'm  not  exactly  fit  for  all  this  style,  Patsy. 
I'll  have  to  get  a  new  suit  of  clothes  to  match 

294 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

my  new  quarters.  Will  you  give  me  back  ten 
dollars  of  that  money  to  buy  'em  with?" 

"I  suppose  I'll  have  to,"  she  answered, 
thoughtfully. 

"We'll  have  to  go  back  tc  Becker's  flats  to 
pack  up  our  traps,"  said  the  Major,  "so  we  might 
as  well  go  now." 

"I  hate  to  leave  here  for  a  single  moment," 
replied  the  girl. 

"Why?" 

"I'm  afraid  it  will  all  disappear  again." 

"Nonsense !"  said  Uncle  John.  "For  my  part, 
I  haven't  any  traps,  so  I'll  stay  here  and  guard 
the  treasure  till  you  return." 

"Dinner  is  served,  Miss  Patricia,"  said  the 
small  maid,  appearing  in  the  doorway. 

"Then  let's  dine!"  cried  Patsy,  dapping  her 
hands  gleefully;  "and  afterward  the  Major  and 
I  will  make  our  last  visit  to  Becker's  °lats." 


295 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 


LOUISE    MAKES    A    DISCOVERY. 

Uncle  John  did  not  stay  to  guard  the  treas- 
ure, after  all,  for  he  knew  very  well  it  would  not 
disappear. 

As  soon  as  Patsy  and  the  Major  had  departed 
for  Becker's  flats,  he  took  his  own  hat  from  the 
rack  and  walked  away  to  hunt  up  another  niece, 
Miss  Louise  Merrick,  whose  address  he  had 
casually  obtained  from  Patsy  a  day  or  two  be- 
fore. 

It  was  near  by,  and  he  soon  found  the  place — 
a  pretty  flat  in  a  fashionable  building,  although 
not  so  exclusive  a  residence  district  as  Willing 
Square. 

Up  three  flights  he  rode  in  the  elevator,  and 
then  rang  softly  at  the  door  which  bore  the  card 
of  Mrs.  Merrick. 

296 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

A  maid  opened  it  and  looked  at  him  enquir- 
ingly. 

"Are  the  ladies  in?"  he  asked. 

"I'll  see.     Your  card,  sir?" 

"I  haven't  any." 

She  half  closed  the  door. 

"Any  name,  then?" 

"Yes,  John  Merrick." 

She  closed  the  door  entirely,  and  was  gone 
several  minutes.  Then  she  came  back  and  ush- 
ered him  through  the  parlor  into  a  small  rear 
room. 

Mrs.  Merrick  arose  from  her  chair  by  the 
window  and  advanced  to  meet  him. 

"You  are  John  Merrick?"  she  enquired. 

"Your  husband's  brother,  ma'am,"  he  re- 
plied. 

"How  do  you  do,  Uncle  John?"  called  Louise, 
from  the  sofa.  "Excuse  my  getting  up,  won't 
you?  And  where  in  the  world  have  you  come 
from?" 

Mrs.  Merrick  sat  down  again. 

"Won't  you  take  a  chair?"  she  said,  stiffly. 

297 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

"I  believe  I  will,"  returned  Uncle  John.  "I 
just  came  to  make  a  call,  you  know." 

"Louise  has  told  me  of  you,"  said  the  lady. 
"It  was  very  unfortunate  that  your  sister's  death 
deprived  you  of  a  home.  An  absurd  thing,  al- 
together, that  fiasco  of  Jane  Merrick's." 

"True,"  he  agreed. 

"But  I  might  have  expected  it,  knowing  the 
woman's  character  as  I  did." 

Uncle  John  wondered  what  Jane's  character 
had  to  do  with  the  finding  of  Tom  Bradley's  last 
will;  but  he  said  nothing. 

"Where  are  you  living?"  asked  Louise. 

"Not  anywhere,  exactly,"  he  answered,  "al- 
though Patsy  has  offered  me  a  home  and  I've 
been  sleeping  on  a  sofa  in  her  living-room,  the 
past  week." 

"I  advise  you  to  stay  with  the  Doyles,"  said 
Mrs.  Merrick,  quickly.  "We  haven't  even  a  sofa 
to  offer  you  here,  our  flat  is  so  small;  otherwise 
we  would  be  glad  to  be  of  some  help  to  you. 
Have  you  found  work?" 

"I  haven't  tried  to,  yet,  ma'am." 

"It  will  be  hard  to  get,  at  your  age,  of  course. 

298 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

But  that  is  a  matter  in  which  we  cannot  assist 
you." 

"Oh,  I'm  not  looking  for  help,  ma'am." 

She  glanced  at  his  worn  clothing  and  soiled 
white  necktie,  and  smiled. 

"But  we  want  to  do  something  for  you," 
said  Louise.  "Now,"  sitting  up  and  regarding 
him  gravely,  "I'm  going  to  tell  you  a  state  se- 
cret. We  are  living,  in  this  luxurious  way,  on 
the  principal  of  my  father's  life  insurance.  At 
our  present  rate  of  expenditure  we  figure  that  the 
money  will  last  us  two  years  and  nine  months 
longer.  By  that  time  I  shall  be  comfortably 
married  or  we  will  go  bankrupt — as  the  fates  de- 
cide. Do  you  understand  the  situation?'' 

"Perfectly.  It's  very  simple,"  said  the  old 
man. 

"And  rather  uncertain,  isn't  it?  But  in  spite 
of  this,  we  are  better  able  to  help  you  than  any 
of  your  other  relatives.  The  Doyles  are  hard- 
working folks,  and  very  poor.  Beth  says  that 
Professor  De  Graf  is  over  head  and  ears  in  debt 
and  earns  less  every  year,  so  he  can't  be  counted 
upon.  In  all  the  Merrick  tribe  the  only  tangible 

299 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

thing  is  my  father's  life  insurance,  which  I  be- 
lieve you  once  helped  him  to  pay  a  premium  on." 

"I'd  forgotten  that,"  said  Uncle  John. 

"Well,  we  haven't.  We  don't  want  to  appear 
ungenerous  in  your  eyes.  Some  day  we  may 
need  help  ourselves.  But  just  now  we  can't 
offer  you  a  home,  and,  as  mother  says,  you'd  bet- 
ter stay  with  the  Doyles.  We  have  talked  ol 
making  you  a  small  allowance;  but  that  may  not 
t>e  necessary.  When  you  need  assistance  you 
must  come  to  us,  and  we'll  do  whatever  we  can, 
as  long  as  our  money  lasts.  Won't  that  be  the 
better  way?" 

Uncle  John  was  silent  for  a  moment.  Then 
he  asked: 

"Why  have  you  thought  it  necessary  to  as- 
sist me?" 

Louise  seemed  surprised. 

"You  are  old  and  seemed  to  be  without 
means,"  she  answered,  "and  that  five  thousand 
Aunt  Jane  left  to  you  turned  out  to  be  a  myth. 
But  tell  me,  have  you  money,  Uncle  John?" 

"Enough  for  my  present  needs,"  he  said, 
smiling. 

300 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

Mrs.  Merrick  seemed  greatly  relieved. 

"Then  there  is  no  need  of  our  trying  to  be 
generous,"  she  said,  "and  I  am  glad  of  that  on 
all  accounts." 

"I  just  called  for  a  little  visit,"  said  Uncle 
John.  "It  seemed  unfriendly  not  to  hunt  you 
up,  when  I  was  in  town." 

"I'm  glad  you  did,"  replied  Mrs.  Merrick, 
glancing  at  the  clock.  "But  Louise  expects  a 
young  gentleman  to  call  upon  her  in  a  few  min- 
utes, and  perhaps  you  can  drop  in  again;  another 
Sunday,  for  instance." 

"Perhaps  so,"  said  Uncle  John,  rising  with 
a  red  face.  "I'll  see." 

"Good  bye,  Uncle,"  exclaimed  Louise,  rising 
to  take  his  hand.  "Don't  feel  that  we've  hurried 
you  away,  but  come  in  again,  whenever  you  feel 
like  it." 

"Thank  you,  my  dear,"  he  said,  and  went 
away. 

Louise  approached  the  open  window,  that  led 
to  a  broad  balcony.  The  people  in  the  next  flat 
— young  Mr.  Isham,  the  son  of  the  great  banker, 
and  his  wife — were  sitting  on  the  balcony,  over- 

301 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

looking  the  street,  but  Louise  decided  to  glance 
over  the  rail  to  discover  if  the  young  gentleman 
she  so  eagerly  awaited  chanced  to  be  in  sight. 

As  she  did  so  Mr.  Isham  cried  in  great  ex- 
citement : 

"There  he  is,  Myra — that's  him !"  and  pointed 
toward  the  sidewalk. 

"Whom?"  enquired  Mrs.  Isham,  calmly. 

"Why  John  Merrick!  John  Merrick,  of 
Portland,  Oregon." 

"And  who  is  John  Merrick?"  asked  the  lady. 

"One  of  the  richest  men  in  the  world,  and  the 
best  client  our  house  has.  Isn't  he  a  queer  look- 
ing fellow  ?  And  dresses  like  a  tramp.  But  he's 
worth  from  eighty  to  ninety  millions,  at  least, 
and  controls  most  of  the  canning  and  tin-plate 
industries  of  America.  I  wonder  what  brought 
him  into  this  neighborhood?" 

Louise  drew  back  from  the  window,  pale  and 
trembling.  Then  she  caught  up  a  shawl  and 
rushed  from  the  room.  Uncle  John  must  be 
overtaken  and  brought  back,  at  all  hazards. 

The  elevator  was  coming  down,  fortunately, 
and  she  descended  quickly  and  reached  the 

302 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

street,  where  she  peered  eagerly  up  and  down  for 
the  round,  plump  figure  of  the  little  millionaire. 
But  by  some  strange  chance  he  had  already 
turned  a  corner  and  disappeared. 

While  she  hesitated  the  young  man  came 
briskly  up,  swinging  his  cane. 

"Why,  Miss  Louise,"  he  said  in  some  sur- 
prise, "were  you,  by  good  chance,  waiting  for 
me?" 

"No,  indeed,"  she  answered,  with  a  laugh; 
"I've  been  saying  good-bye  to  my  rich  uncle, 
John  Merrick,  of  Portland,  who  has  just  called." 

"John  Merrick,  the  tin-plate  magnate?  Is 
he  your  uncle?" 

"My  father's  own  brother,"  she  answered, 
gaily.  "Come  upstairs,  please.  Mother  will  be 
glad  to  see  you!" 


303 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 


PATSY    LOSES    HER    JOB. 

Uncle  John  reached  Willing  Square  before 
Patsy  and  her  father  returned,  but  soon  afterward 
they  arrived  in  an  antiquated  carriage  surrounded 
by  innumerable  bundles. 

"The  driver's  a  friend  of  mine,"  explained 
the  Major,  "and  he  moved  us  for  fifty  cents, 
which  is  less  than  half  price.  We  didn't  bring 
a  bit  of  the  furniture  or  beds,  for  there's  no  place 
here  to  put  them ;  but  as  the  rent  at  Becker's  flat 
is  paid  to  the  first  of  next  month,  we'll  have 
plenty  of  time  to  auction  'em  all  off." 

The  rest  of  the  day  was  spent  most  delight- 
fully in  establishing  themselves  in  the  new  home. 
It  didn't  take  the  girl  long  to  put  her  few  be- 
longings into  the  closets  and  drawers,  but  there 
were  a  thousand  little  things  to  examine  in  the 

304 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

,c*oms,  and  she  made  some  important  discovery 
at  every  turn. 

"Daddy,"  she  said,  impressively,  "it  must 
have  cost  a  big  fortune  to  furnish  these  little 
rooms.  They're  full  of  very  expensive  things, 
and  none  of  the  grand  houses  Madam  Borne 
has  sent  me  to  is  any  finer  than  ours.  I'm  sure 
the  place  is  too  good  for  us,  who  are  working 
people.  Do  you  think  we  ought  to  stay  here  ?" 

"The  Doyles,"  answered  the  Major,  very 
seriously,  "are  one  of  the  greatest  and  most  aris- 
tocratic families  in  all  Ireland,  which  is  the  most 
aristocratic  country  in  the  world.  If  I  only  had 
our  pedigree  I  could  prove  it  to  you  easily. 
There's  nothing  too  good  for  an  Irish  gentleman, 
even  if  he  condescends  to  bookkeeping  to  supply 
the  immediate  necessities  of  life;  and  as  you're 
me  own  daughter,  Patricia,  though  a  Merrick 
on  your  poor  sainted  mother's  side,  you're  en- 
titled to  all  you  can  get  honestly.  Am  I  right, 
Uncle  John,  or  do  I  flatter  myself?" 

Uncle  John  stroked  the  girl's  head  softly. 

"You  are  quite  right,"  he  said.     "There  is 

305 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

nothing  too  good  for  a  brave,  honest  girl  who's 
heart  is  in  the  right  place." 

"And  that's  Patsy,"  declared  the  Major,  as 
if  the  question  were  finally  settled. 

On  Monday  morning  Mary  had  a  dainty 
breakfast  all  ready  for  them  at  seven  o'clock,  and 
Patsy  and  her  father  departed  with  light  hearts 
for  their  work.  Uncle  John  rode  part  way  down 
town  with  them. 

"I'm  going  to  buy  my  new  suit,  today,  and  a 
new  necktie,"  he  said. 

"Don't  let  them  rob  you,"  was  Patsy's  part- 
ing injunction.  "Is  your  money  all  safe?  And 
if  you  buy  a  ten  dollar  suit  of  clothes  the  dealer 
ought  to  throw  in  the  necktie  to  bind  the  bar- 
gain. And  see  that  they're  all  wool,  Uncle 
John." 

"What,  the  neckties?" 

"No,  the  clothes.  Good-bye,  and  don't  be 
late  to  dinner.  Mary  might  scold." 

"I'll  remember.     Good-bye,  my  dear." 

Patsy  was  almost  singing  for  joy  when  she 
walked  into  Madam  Borne's  hair-dressing  es- 
tablishment. 

306 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

'Don't  take  off  your  things,"  said  the 
Madam,  sharply.  "You're  services  are  no  longer 
required." 

Patsy  looked  at  her  in  amazement.  Doubt- 
less she  hadn't  heard  aright. 

"I  have  another  girl  in  your  place,"  contin- 
ued Madam  Borne,  "so  I'll  bid  you  good  morn- 
ing." 

Patsy's  heart  was  beating  fast. 

"Do  you  mean  I'm  discharged?"  she  asked, 
with  a  catch  in  her  voice. 

"That's  it  precisely." 

"Have  I  done  anything  wrong,  Madam?" 

"It  isn't  that,"  said  Madam,  pettishly.  "I 
simply  do  not  require  your  services.  You  are 
paid  up  to  Saturday  night,  and  I  owe  you  noth- 
ing. Now,  run  along." 

Patsy  stood  looking  at  her  and  wondering 
what  to  do.  To  lose  this  place  was  certainly  a 
great  calamity. 

"You'll  give  me  a  testimonial,  won't  you, 
Madam?"  she  asked,  falteringly. 

"I   don't  give  testimonials,"   was  the  reply. 

307 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

"Do  run  away,  child;  I'm  very  busy  this  morn- 
ing." 

Patsy  went  away,  all  her  happiness  turned  to 
bitter  grief.  What  would  the  Major  say,  and 
what  were  they  to  do  without  her  wages  ?  Then 
she  remembered  Willing  Square,  and  was  a  lit-, 
tie  comforted.  Money  was  not  as  necessary  now 
as  it  had  been  before. 

Nevertheless,  she  applied  to  one  or  two  hair- 
dressers for  employment,  and  met  with  abrupt 
refusals.  They  had  all  the  help  they  needed.  So 
she  decided,  to  go  back  home  and  think  it  over, 
before  taking  further  action. 

It  was  nearly  ten  o'clock  when  she  fitted  her 
pass-key  into  the  carved  door  of  Apartment  D, 
and  when  she  entered  the  pretty  living-room  she 
found  an  elderly  lady  seated  there,  who  arose  to 
greet  her. 

"Miss  Doyle?"  enquired  the  lady. 

"Yes,  ma'am,"  said  Patsy. 

"I  am  Mrs.  Wilson,  and  I  have  been  engaged 
to  give  you  private  instruction  from  ten  to 
twelve  every  morning." 

308 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

Patsy  plumped  down  upon  a  chair  and  looked 
her  amazement. 

"May  I  ask  who  engaged  you?"  she  ven- 
tured to  enquire. 

"A  gentleman  from  the  bank  of  Isham,  Mar- 
vin &  Co.  made  the  arrangement.  May  I  take 
off  my  things?" 

"If  you  please,"  said  the  girl,  quietly.  Evi- 
dently this  explained  why  Madam  Borne  had  dis- 
charged her  so  heartlessly.  The  gentleman  from 
Isham,  Marvin  &  Co.  had  doubtless  interviewed 
the  Madam  and  told  her  what  to  do.  And  then, 
knowing  she  would  be  at  liberty,  he  had  sent  her 
this  private  instructor. 

The  girl  felt  that  the  conduct  of  her  life  had 
been  taken  out  of  her  own  hands  entirely,  and 
that  she  was  now  being  guided  and  cared  for  by 
her  unknown  friend  and  benefactor.  And  al- 
though she  was  inclined  to  resent  the  loss  of  her 
independence,  at  first,  her  judgment  told  her  it 
would  not  only  be  wise  but  to  her  great  ad- 
vantage to  submit. 

She  found  Mrs.  Wilson  a  charming  and  cul- 
tivated lady,  who  proved  so  gracious  and  kindly 

309 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

that  the  girl  felt  quite  at  ease  in  her  presence. 
She  soon  discovered  how  woefully  ignorant 
Patsy  was,  and  arranged  a  course  of  instruction 
that  would  be  of  most  benefit  to  her. 

"I  have  been  asked  to  prepare  you  to  enter  a 
girls'  college,"  she  said,  "and  if  you  are  attentive 
and  stujiious  I  shall  easily  accomplish  the  task." 

Patsy  invited  her  to  stay  to  luncheon,  which 
Mary  served  in  the  cosy  dining-room,  and  then 
Mrs.  Wilson  departed  and  left  her  alone  to  think 
over  this  new  example  of  her  unknown  friend's 
thoughtful  care. 

At  three  o'clock  the  door-bell  rang  and  Mary 
ushered  in  another  strange  person — a  pretty, 
fair-haired  young  lady,  this  time,  who  said  she 
was  to  give  Miss  Doyle  lessons  on  the  piano. 

Patsy  was  delighted.  It  was  the  one  accom- 
plishment she  most  longed  to  acquire,  and  she 
entered  into  the  first  lesson  with  an  eagerness 
that  made  her  teacher  smile  approvingly. 

Meantime  the  Major  was  having  his  own 
surprises.  At  the  office  the  manager  met  him  on 
his  arrival  and  called  him  into  his  private  room. 

"Major  Doyle,"   said   he,   "it  is   with   great 

310 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

regret  that  we  part  with  you,  for  you  have 
served  our  house  most  faithfully." 

The  Major  was  nonplussed. 

"But,"  continued  the  manager,  "our  bankers, 
Messers.  Isham,  Marvin  &  Co.,  have  asked  us  to 
spare  you  for  them,  as  they  have  a  place  requir- 
ing a  man  of  your  abilities  where  you  can  do 
much  better  than  with  us.  Take  this  card,  sir, 
and  step  over  to  the  bankers  and  enquire  for  Mr. 
Marvin.  I  congratulate  you,  Major  Doyle,  on 
your  advancement,  which  I  admit  is  fully  de- 
served." 

The  Major  semed  dazed.  Like  a  man  walk- 
ing in  a  dream  he  made  his  way  to  the  great 
banking  house,  and  sent  in  the  card  to  Mr.  Mar- 
vin. 

That  gentleman  greeted  him  most  cordially. 

"We  want  you  to  act  as  special  auditor  of  ac- 
counts," said  he.  "It  is  a  place  of  much  re- 
sponsibility, but  your  duties  will  not  be  arduous. 
You  will  occupy  Private  Office  No.  u,  and  your 
hours  are  only  from  10  to  12  each  morning. 
After  that  you  will  be  at  liberty.  The  salary,  I 
regret  to  say,  is  not  commensurate  with  your 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

value,  being  merely  twenty- four  hundred  a  year; 
but  as  you  will  have  part  of  the  day  to  yourself 
you  will  doubtless  be  able  to  supplement  that 
sum  in  other  ways.  Is  this  satisfactory,  sir?" 

"Quite  so,"  answered  the  Major.  Twenty- 
four  hundred  a.  year!  And  only  two  hours' 
work!  Quite  satisfactory,  indeed! 

His  little  office  was  very  cosy,  too;  and  the 
work  of  auditing  the  accounts  of  the  most  im- 
portant customers  of  the  house  required  accuracy 
but  no  amount  of  labor.  It  was  an  ideal  occu- 
pation for  a  man  of  his  years  and  limited  train- 
ing. 

He  stayed  in  the  office  until  two  o'clock  that 
day,  in  order  to  get  fully  acquainted  with  the  de- 
tails of  his  work.  Then  he  closed  his  desk,  went 
to  luncheon,  which  he  enjoyed  amazingly,  and 
then  decided  to  return  to  Willing  Square  and 
await  Patsy's  return  from  Madam  Borne's. 

As  he  let  himself  in  he  heard  an  awkward 
drumming  and  strumming  on  the  piano,  and 
peering  slyly  through  the  opening  in  the  por- 
tierre  he  was  startled  to  find  Patsv  herself  mak- 
ing the  dreadful  noise,  while  a  pretty  girl  sat  be- 

312 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

side  her  directing  the  movements  of  her  fingers. 

The  Major  watched  for  several  minutes,  in 
silent  but  amazed  exultation;  then  he  tip-toed 
softly  to  his  room  to  smoke  a  cigar  and  wait  un- 
til his  daughter  was  at  liberty  to  hear  his  great 
news  and  explain  her  own  adventures. 

When  Uncle  John  came  home  to  dinner  he 
found  father  and  daughter  seated  happily  to- 
gether in  a  loving  embrace,  their  faces  wreathed 
with  ecstatic  smiles  that  were  wonderful  to  be- 
hold. 

Uncle  John  was  radiant  in  a  brand  new  pep- 
per-and-salt suit  of  clothes  that  fitted  his  little 
round  form  perfectly.  Patsy  marvelled  that  he 
could  get  such  a  handsome  outfit  for  the  money, 
for  Uncle  John  had  on  new  linen  and  a  new  hat 
and  even  a  red-bordered  handkerchief  for  the 
coat  pocket — besides  the  necktie,  and  the  necktie 
was  of  fine  silk  and  in  the  latest  fashion. 

The  transformation  was  complete,  and  Uncle 
John  had  suddenly  become  an  eminently  re- 
spectable old  gentleman,  with  very  little  to  criti- 
cise in  his  appearance. 

"Do  I  match  the  flat,  now  ?"  he  asked. 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

"To  a  dot!"  declared  Patsy.  "So  come  to 
dinner,  for  it's  ready  and  waiting,  and  the  Major 
and  I  have  some  wonderful  fairy  tales  to  tell 


you." 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 


THE    MAJOR   DEMANDS    AN    EXPLANATION. 

That  was  a  happy  week,  indeed.  Patsy  de- 
voted all  her  spare  time  to  her  lessons,  but  the 
house  itself  demanded  no  little  attention.  She 
would  not  let  Mary  dust  the  ornaments  or  ar- 
range the  rooms  at  all,  but  lovingly  performed 
those  duties  herself,  and  soon  became  an  ideal 
housekeeper,  as  Uncle  John  approvingly  re- 
marked. 

And  as  she  flitted  from  room  to  room  she 
sang  such  merry  songs  that  it  was  a  delight  to 
hear  her,  and  the  Major  was  sure  to  get  home 
from  the  city  in  time  to  listen  to  the  strumming1 
of  the  piano  at  three  o'clock,  from  the  recess  of 
his  own  snug  chamber. 

Uncle  John  went  to  the  city  every  morning, 
and  at  first  this  occasioned  no  remark.  Patsy 

315 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

was  too  occupied  to  pay  much  attention  to  her 
uncle's  coming  and  going,  and  the  Major  was  in- 
different, being  busy  admiring  Patsy's  happi- 
ness and  congratulating  himself  on  his  own  good 
fortune. 

The  position  at  the  bank  had  raised  the  good 
man's  importance  several  notches.  The  clerks 
treated  him  with  fine  consideration  and  the  heads 
of  the  firm  were  cordial  and  most  pleasant.  His 
fine,  soldierly  figure  and  kindly,  white-mous- 
tached  face,  conferred  a  certain  dignity  upon  his 
employers,  which  they  seemed  to  respect  and  ap- 
preciate. 

It  was  on  Wednesday  that  the  Major  en- 
countered the  name  of  John  Merrick  on  the 
Looks.  The  account  was  an  enormous  one,  run- 
ning into  millions  in  stocks  and  securities.  The 
Major  smiled. 

"That's  Uncle  John's  name,"  he  reflected. 
"It  would  please  him  to  know  he  had  a  namesake 
so  rich  as  this  one." 

The  next  day  he  noted  that  John  Merrick's 
holdings  were  mostly  in  western  canning  indus- 
tries and  tin-plate  factories,  and  again  he  recol- 

316 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

lected  that  Uncle  John  had  once  been  a  tin- 
smith. The  connection  was  rather  curious. 

But  it  was  not  until  Saturday  morning  that 
the  truth  dawned  upon  him,  and  struck  him  like 
a  blow  from  a  sledge-hammer. 

He  had  occasion  to  visit  Mr.  Marvin's  pri- 
vate office,  but  being  told  that  the  gentleman 
was  engaged  with  an  important  customer,  he 
lingered  outside  the  door,  waiting. 

Presently  the  door  was  partly  opened. 

"Don't  forget  to  sell  two  thousand  of  the 
Continental  stock  tomorrow,"  he  heard  a  familiar 
voice  say. 

"I'll  not  forget,  Mr.  Merrick,"  answered  the 
banker. 

"And  buy  that  property  on  Bleeker  street  at 
the  price  offered.  It's  a  fair  proposition,  and  I 
need  the  land." 

"Very  well,  Mr.  Merrick.  Would  it  not  be 
better  for  me  to  send  these  papers  by  a  messenger 
to  your  house?" 

"No;  I'll  take  them  myself.  No  one  will  rob 
me."  And  then  the  door  swung  open  and,  chuck- 
ling in  his  usual  whimsical  fashion,  Uncle  John 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

came  out,  wearing  his  salt-and-pepper  suit  and 
stuffing  a  bundle  of  papers  into  his  inside  pocket. 

The  Major  stared  at  him,  haughtily,  but 
made  no  attempt  to  openly  recognize  the  man. 
Uncle  John  gave  a  start,  laughed,  and  then 
walked  away  briskly,  throwing  a  hasty  "good- 
bye" to  the  obsequious  banker,  who  followed  him 
out,  bowing  low. 

The  Major  returned  to  his  office  with  a  grave 
face,  and  sat  for  the  best  part  of  three  hours  in 
a  brown  study.  Then  he  took  his  hat  and  went 
home. 

Patsy  asked  anxiously  if  anything  had  hap- 
pened, when  she  saw  his  face;  but  the  Major 
shook  his  head. 

Uncle  John  arrived  just  in  time  for  dinner, 
in  a  very  genial  mood,  and  he  and  Patsy  kept  up 
a  lively  conversation  at  the  table  while  the  Major 
looked  stern  every  time  he  caught  the  little  man's 
eye. 

But  Uncle  John  never  minded.  He  was  not 
even  as  meek  and  humble  as  usual,  but  laughed 
and  chatted  with  the  freedom  of  a  boy  ju?t  out 
of  school,  which  made  Patsy  think  the  new 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

clothes  had  improved  him  in  more  ways  than  one. 

When  dinner  was  over  the  Major  led  them 
into  the  sitting-room,  turned  up  the  lights,  and 
then  confronted  the  little  man  with  a  determined 
and  majestic  air. 

"Sir,"  said  he,  "give  an  account  of  your- 
self." 

"Eh?" 

"John  Merrick,  millionaire  and  impostor, 
who  came  into  my  family  under  false  pretenses 
and  won  our  love  and  friendship  when  we  didn't 
know  it,  give  an  account  of  yourself!" 

Patsy  laughed. 

"What  are  you  up  to,  Daddy  ?"  she  demanded. 
"What  has  Uncle  John  been  doing?" 

"Deceiving  us,  my  dear." 

"Nonsense,"  said  Uncle  John,  lighting  his  old 
briar  pipe,  "you've  been  deceiving  yourselves." 

"Didn't  you  convey  the  impression  that  you 
were  poor?"  demanded  the  Major,  sternly. 

"No." 

"Didn't  you  let  Patsy  take  away  your  thirty- 
two  dollars  and  forty-two  cents,  thinking  it  was 
all  you  had?" 

319 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

"Yes." 

"Aren't  you  worth  millions  and  millions  of 
dollars — so  many  that  you  can't  count  them  your- 
self?" 

"Perhaps." 

"Then,  sir,"  concluded  the  Major,  mopping 
the  perspiration  from  his  forehead  and  sitting 
down  limply  in  his  chair,  "what  do  you  mean 
by  it?" 

Patsy  stood  pale  and  trembling,  her  round 
eyes  fixed  upon  her  uncle's  composed  face. 

"Uncle  John!"  she  faltered. 

"Yes,  my  dear." 

"Is  it  all  true?    Are  you  so  very  rich?" 

"Yes,  my  dear." 

"And  it's  you  that  gave  me  this  house,  and — 
and  everything  else —  and  got  the  Major  his  fine 
job,  and  me  discharged,  and — and — " 

"Of  course,  Patsy.    Why  not?" 

"Oh,  Uncle  John!" 

She  threw  herself  into  his  arms,  sobbing  hap- 
pily as  he  clasped  her  little  form  to  his  bosom. 
And  the  Major  coughed  and  blew  his  nose,  and 
muttered  unintelligible  words  into  his  handker- 

320 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

chief.  Then  Patsy  sprang  up  and  rushed  upon 
her  father,  crying: 

"Oh,  Daddy!  Aren't  you  glad  it's  Uncle 
John?" 

"I  have  still  to  hear  his  explanation,"  said 
the  Major. 

Uncle  John  beamed  upon  them.  Perhaps  he 
had  never  been  so  happy  before  in  all  his  life. 

"I'm  willing  to  explain,"  he  said,  lighting  his 
pipe  again  and  settling  himself  in  his  chair. 
"But  my  story  is  a  simple  one,  dear  friends,  and 
not  nearly  so  wonderful  as  you  may  imagine. 
My  father  had  a  big  family  that  kept  him  poor, 
and  I  was  a  tinsmith  with  little  work  to  be  had 
in  the  village  where  we  lived.  So  I  started  west, 
working  my  way  from  town  to  town,  until  I  got 
to  Portland,  Oregon. 

"There  was  work  in  plenty  there,  making  the 
tin  cans  in  which  salmon  and  other  fish  is  packed, 
and  as  I  was  industrious  I  soon  had  a  shop  of 
my  own,  and  supplied  cans  to  the  packers.  The 
shop  grew  to  be  a  great  factory,  employing  hun- 
dreds of  men.  Then  I  bought  up  the  factories 
of  my  competitors,  so  as  to  control  the  market, 

- 

321 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

and  as  I  used  so  much  tin-plate  I  became  inter- 
ested in  the  manufacture  of  this  product,  and  in- 
vested a  good  deal  of  money  in  the  production 
and  perfection  of  American  tin.  My  factories 
were  now  scattered  all  along  the  coast,  even  to 
California,  where  I  made  the  cans  for  the  great 
quantities  of  canned  fruits  they  ship  from  that 
section  every  year.  Of  course  the  business  made 
me  rich,  and  I  bought  real  estate  with  my  extra 
money,  and  doubled  my  fortune  again  and 
again. 

"I  never  married,  for  all  my  heart  was  in  the 
business,  and  I  thought  of  nothing  else.  But  a 
while  ago  a  big  consolidation  of  the  canning  in- 
dustries was  effected,  and  the  active  management 
I  resigned  to  other  hands,  because  I  had  grown 
old,  and  had  too  much  money  already. 

"It  was  then  that  I  remembered  the  family, 
and  went  back  quietly  to  the  village  where  I  was 
born.  They  were  all  dead  or  scattered,  I  found ; 
but  because  Jane  had  inherited  a  fortune  in  some 
way  I  discovered  where  she  lived  and  went  to  see 
her.  I  suppose  it  was  because  my  clothes  were 
old  and  shabby  that  Jane  concluded  I  was  a  poor 

322 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

man  and  needed  assistance;  and  I  didn't  take  the 
trouble  to  undeceive  her. 

"I  also  found  my  three  nieces  at  Elmhurst, 
and  it  struck  me  it  would  be  a  good  time  to  study 
their  characters;  for  like  Jane  I  had  a  fortune  to 
leave  behind  me,  and  I  was  curious  to  find  out 
which  girl  was  the  most  deserving.  No  one  sus- 
pected my  disguise.  I  don't  usually  wear  such 
poor  clothes,  you  know;  but  I  have  grown  to  be 
careless  of  dress  in  the  west,  and  finding  that  I 
was  supposed  to  be  a  poor  man  I  clung  to  that 
old  suit  like  grim  death  to  a  grasshopper." 

"It  was  very  wicked  of  you,"  said  Patsy,  so- 
berly, from  her  father's  lap. 

"As  it  turned  out,"  continued  the  little  man, 
"Jane's  desire  to  leave  her  money  to  her  nieces 
amounted  to  nothing,  for  the  money  wasn't  hers. 
But  I  must  say  it  was  kind  of  her  to  put  me  down 
for  five  thousand  dollars — now,  wasn't  it?" 

The  Major  grinned. 

"And  that's  the  whole  story,  my  friend?. 
After  Jane's  death  you  offered  me  a  home — the 
best  you  had  to  give — and  I  accepted  it.  I  had 
to  come  to  New  York  anyway,  you  know,  for 

323 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

Isham,  Marvin  &  Co.  have  been  my  bankers  for 
years,  and  there  was  considerable  business  to 
transact  with  them.  I  think  that's  all,  isn't  it?" 

"Then  this  house  is  yours  ?"  said  Patsy,  won- 
deringly. 

"No,  my  dear;  the  whole  block  belongs  to 
you  and  here's  the  deed  for  it,"  drawing  a  pack- 
age of  papers  from  his  pocket.  "It's  a  very  good 
property,  Patsy,  and  the  rents  you  get  from  the 
other  five  fiats  will  be  a  fortune  in  themselves." 

For  a  time  the  three  sat  in  silence.  Then  the 
girl  whispered,  softly: 

"Why  are  you  so  good  to   me,  Uncle  John?" 

"Just  because  I  like  you,  Patsy,  and  you  are 
my  niece." 

"And  the  other  nieces?" 

"Well,  I  don't  mean  they  shall  wait  for  my 
death  to  be  made  happy,"  answered  Uncle  John. 
"Here's  a  paper  that  gives  to  Louise's  mother 
the  use  of  a  hundred  thousand  dollars,  as  long  as 
she  lives.  After  that  Louise  will  have  the  money 
to  do  as  she  pleases  with." 

"How  fine!"  cried  Patsy,  clapping  her  hands 
joyfully. 

324 


AUNT  JANE'S  NIECES. 

"And  here's  another  paper  that  gives  Profes- 
sor De  Graf  the  use  of  another  hundred  thousand. 
Beth  is  to  have  it  when  he  dies.  She's  a  sensible 
girl,  and  will  take  good  care  of  it." 

"Indeed  she  will!"  said  Patsy. 

"And  now,"  said  Uncle  John,  "I  want  to 
know  if  I  can  keep  my  little  room  in  your  apart- 
ments, Patsy;  or  if  you'd  prefer  me  to  find  an- 
other boarding  place." 

"Your  home  is  here  as  long  as  you  live, 
Uncle  John.  I  never  meant  to  part  with  you, 
when  I  thought  you  poor,  and  I'll  not  desert  you 
now  that  I  know  you're  rich." 

"Well  said,  Patsy !"  cried  the  Major. 

And  Uncle  John  smiled  and  kissed  the  girl 
and  then  lighted  his  pipe  again,  for  it  had  gone 
out. 

The  further  fortunes  of  "Aunt  Jane's  Nieces" 
—how  they  saw  Europe  with  Uncle  John;  how 
they  spent  a  summer  on  Uncle  John's  farm;  and 
how  they  accomplished  a  worthy  political  work 
— may  be  followed  by  the  reader  in  "Aunt  Jane's 
Nieces  Abroad,"  "Aunt  Jane's  Nieces  at  Millville," 
and  "Aunt  Jane's  Nieces  at  Work." 

325 


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